I’m sitting at work waiting for someone to delegate or generate something for me to do. Admissions work is cyclical – lightning and pelting rain one day, soft air and magnolias the next. Begin again. We are in the quiet magnolia phase. One has time to think about all of the projects waiting at home. My mind reels with the enormity of chores that cannot possibly be completed within the confines of a weekend. Consider the garden. I STILL haven’t planted the tomatoes or arugula. The weeds in the herb garden are knee high and if I don’t prune the New Dawn rose it will become unapproachable. The long borders are on their own … Mr. Woodchuck is making his version of the Holland Tunnel in my own back yard.
The housework, my God, the housework. Let’s just skip over that category with the knowledge that I have nearly given up the ghost. The laundry and my cup runneth over.
And then there’s the never ending procession of UFO’s. I recently read (on the blog of someone that I very much admire) this wildly brilliant concept; she makes One. Quilt. At. A. Time! She finishes her projects!
I’m getting there! I really believe that it is possible!
I have never trusted the spring. It’s a sneaky time, wrought with illness, accidents and death. Most people think of spring as renewal – I disagree. Behind every emerging daffodil lurks a potential catastrophe, a broken heart, an unspeakable sadness.
We started off with a three alarm fire in which one person perished, my son and another firefighter were injured, and a third collapsed and later died of a coronary event. If you live within 60 miles of our area (Dutchess County, NY) you read about firefighter Tim Gunther’s passing. He was given a hero’s procession – he’ll not be forgotten.
My son is healing. He is eager to return to work. We celebrated his 32nd birthday this week with a red devil’s food cake from Paula Deen’s grandmother’s recipe. It was scrumptious, just like himself. I want to follow him around like I did when he was four to make certain that no one or nothing will harm him. My dreams are filled of baby images – his chubby legs and sweet smile. I’ve stepped up my prayer life.
Earlier this week one of Scott’s young relatives was killed instantly in a scooter accident. She was a vibrant 24 year old, perched on the brink of life – everything before her. Gone.
Last night I watched while a car raced up our hill and hit a neighboring cat. The driver never even stopped although the sound of impact could be heard from many feet away. It was that sound that made me stop in my tracks and turn to face the road. Poor old ginger cat – you slept on my front porch and had a bowl and bedding next door as well, while your true home you avoided (too much noise?) We all looked out for you.
I thank my lucky stars that I was given the gift of creativity. Being able to tuck away in my studio and invent something pleasing, something beautiful or useful is a saving grace. The garden stands idle, the tomato plants and onion sets wondering why they’ve been ignored. Where is she? It’s time for our roots to set down, our seeds to burst forth! She is upstairs with her fabrics, her designs, her endless cutting and piecing and quilting. She is healing her heart.I’ve stayed crazy busy. The big finish this week is a quilt top for my dear sister. It began life as a wedding gift for her son and his fiancee who live in Taos, NM. The Cotton and Steel “Taos” line spoke to me and I launched into beautiful big blocks. As the quilt came into focus it began to speak to me, softly. My nephew HAS Taos. My sister does not, she misses her son and perhaps a Taos quilt will be of comfort to her in ways that she will appreciate. Curious how these things go…Not typically given to superstition, I have heard that bad things occur in three’s. So we have have our three terrible happenings. Perhaps it is safe to return to the garden now and take in some spring air.
Isn’t she pretty? I think that we will be very happy together. Never mind that I’ve already forgotten how to thread her …I was able to get a copy of Kumiko Fujita’s book, ‘318 Patchwork Patterns’. The alphabet patterns are wonderful and I hope to make a baby quilt fashioned after the one that Ayumi’s friends made and gifted her with. It is said that imitation is the purest form of flattery, and I agree! Small log cabins made entirely from scraps. By the time that this project is completed I should have some experience with freehand quilting under my belt. It would be fun to be able to quilt this one on the Juki. (Her name is Valentine). A wedding quilt is coming along nicely. This is the Snow Blossom pattern found on Quilter’s Cache.Six weeks into 2015 finds me fully engaged in WIP’s! Today marks the fourth anniversary of my father’s passing. It’s about 7 below outdoors with a fierce biting wind. He would have spent the day indoors stoking his wood stove and watching Nascar. My mother would have made little snacks for them to share on wooden tray tables. The house would smell of something good – something homemade.
Today my mother and I will bundle up (be sure to wear your knickers!) and drive to the cemetery where we will sit in the car and reminisce on his life. We will laugh because he was a scoundrel and a very comical man. And we will weep a little because there is a hole in our lives that cannot be filled up. We miss him.
Later we will go to the fabric store because that is what we do.