Notes to myself: Start with something. Let yourself be inspired and then stay attached to it but leave room for your process. Invite carefully and stay on track. Learn how to communicate a vision or idea. Remember you’re being vulnerable. So be as steel and let yourself go. Then get in the shower and wash the day away.
I know that my mother has always been sad about something in life, but this time she has a sadness in her eyes. It’s a real thing.
I rode down that hill very fast on my bicycle, like I usually do, but this time it was especially refreshing and I felt that I needed it.
There’s so much to keep up with in the world and yet I just wanted to be sure that I’m treating people well and with love.
Some nod there heads yes and some nod no with their eyes closed. And then they are frowning at how magnificent the piece is and some have straight lips that slowly turn to a smile. Some mouth bah bah bah as they know the piece and others just have surprised faces.
Mostly I’ve been sewing and reading and designing for a class that I’m in, all the while trying to get out of my head. My mother is coming soon so I may plan a trip up North. I will have … Continue reading
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My Grandfather passed away on Monday and the Pope resigned. I’m just saying. After his mother abandoned he and his 5 1/2 siblings, grandpa grew up in a Catholic orphanage in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He says his father died in the … Continue reading
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I can’t get enough time alone lately. I do love winter and always have but it seems I need it to go away right now so I can have a long day with the sun on my skin. I’ve been … Continue reading
The more I work with leather, the more I fall in love with it. The whole process is showing me quite a bit about myself. While not trying to be too self reflective, I do realise my patience is growing … Continue reading
We went to the desert with dear friends.
We arranged flowers for a beautiful remarriage.
We gathered wood for the Garrels’ farm table.
We walked in the tide and remembered.
We celebrated our second wedding anniversary and laughed.
We harvested plenty of tomatoes but the artichokes flowered.
We heard the symphony here while the moon was full.
Friday, August the seventeenth marked the end of the first year of my life without my father. Hard, hard year. I wasn’t quite sure how to be that day or any day within that year for that matter. When I learned of my father’s death I was enraged inside. Then I was heartbroken. Then I was soul broken. Then I felt like dying myself. I was never relieved. I know my father is relieved though. Sometimes that part is even hard for me because I know there is no pain in heaven so I’m not quite sure that he misses me or longs for me because missing and longing is pain. But my father always missed me. He always missed me. He didn’t say much but I remember when he started telling me he loved me. He would tell me and then hang up the phone quickly so I would tell the dial tone that I loved it. The older I grew, the more we had in common-very few words, crafting with our hands, drinking coffee, and longing for simplicity and fresh air.
I’m thankful for my family. My mother just reminds me of all of him. David reminds me of how committed my father was to us. He always stayed with us and with my mother. David is this way. Paul reminds me how creative my father was. He was always working with his hands. Paul is an artist. Benjamin reminds me of my father’s sweetness. Benjamin is so sweet. Abraham is sentimental. My father’s favorite things were things we gave from our heart. He loved anything we gave him, especially letters. Abraham is this way. And Micah is giving. My father worked to give. Micah is this way.
The hardest part of my father’s death is his absence. I’ve never felt so safe as I did with my father. I miss his hands. The last time I spent with my father was working in his wood shop. We made a bowl of cedar together.
A sweet friend of mine asked me to make a pillow case for her baby’s pillow. The fabric she supplied was from a trip to India. Whenever I am making baby gifts I always think about the mother but rarely get to the part where I make them something. After all, they are the ones laboring and in need of some love and encouragement. So this time I got to it. I made a simple quilted zipper pouch. I’m fond of the round bottom. I use a cup for a guide when tracing.
I chose to make an envelope pillow case. No buttons for the little one to choke on and no chance of the zipper breaking. I did not use a pattern but found a great tutorial if you’d like to follow one. I’m so fond of Freshly Picked, especially now that leather is my new love language.
Notes to myself: Start with something. Let yourself be inspired and then stay attached to it but leave room for your process. Invite carefully and stay on track. Learn how to communicate a vision or idea. Remember you’re being vulnerable. So be as steel and let yourself go. Then get in the shower and wash the day away.
