Category: stitchings (Page 23 of 37)

Back on the red dirt of Georgia
tonight.
Much water has gone under the bridge
in the past week,
things swirling
and twirling inside me.
Pondering and processing
will have to wait
till I’m reacquainted with
a little something we like to call
rest.

And yet,
exhausted as I am,
I am struck with the
fragile threads of life
that connect us
and disconnect us.
Threads tangling and untangling,
twisting and crossing,
meandering and curving.
Threads dangling and raveling,
turning and stopping,
ending and beginning.

Lines and threads
that link us,
that connect us,
that bind us.

~~~~~~~~~

She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning and read your way current.
And there’s a pinterest board, too.

Another sunset in High Desert Country:

When a person first moves to a personal care home, nursing home, assisted living home, it’s inevitable that they will plead with visitors to take them home, and it’s quite understandable that visitors begin to find other ways to spend their time to avoid putting themselves through the agony of not being able to quell the angst and agitation. Me, I grow much more concerned when they stop imploring visitors to take them home, their silence indicating a deep resignation and giving-up and/or further mental erosion. I am a Southerner – a rebel through and through. Maybe that’s why I want people to pitch an outright hissy fit when they don’t like something about their lives. Do not go silently into the night, I plead. Do not roll over and become complacent or compliant. Keep that white flag in your pocket till there’s just no other choice. Keep thinking for yourself. Keep knowing what you want. Keep kicking up a ruckus. I’ll have more to say about this when I’m more rested cause this is big for me. Big, I tell you. Many thanks to my brother-in-law Donn for sending this.

~~~~~~~~~

She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning and read your way current.
And there’s a pinterest board, too.

“Nobody ever writes me,” Aunt Ginny scolds immediately after the hugs. It’s a common, expected greeting, sometimes followed by more admonishing and borderline lecturing. Maybe to those who never raised a child to adulthood, to those who never had the opportunity, the experience to learn about wholeheartedly loving-in-spite-of, that’s what being a matriarch looks like: wagging a finger, pointing out faults, lecturing the children about on what they are doing wrong.

A stitched rendition of Nancy’s drawing and Aunt Ginny’s handkerchief, both resting on an afghan crocheted by Virginia’s mother/Nancy’s grandmother. Three generations of women. In fiber.

~~~~~~~~~

She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning and read your way current.
And there’s a pinterest board, too.

She draws:

I stitch:

The good news: Using photo manipulation software is (eventually) like riding a bike. Last night I remembered how to take the background out on the drawings. The bad news: I kinda’ miss the composition book context – the look of Nancy drawing beyond the lines. The other good news: The speaker at tonight’s meeting of the Fayette Arts And Craft Entrepreneurs group was a photographer. The other bad news: I didn’t get home till after dark, too late to use any of the tips I learned tonight.

Delivered the first Envoy envelope tonight. Put it in the talented hands of my talented, fun, fearless, and hilarious friend Janet McGregor Dunn who once tried to teach me pottery. Who needs therapy when you get your hands in the mud with friends? Trot on over and have a look at her stunning pottery, then look her up on Facebook. I’ll be mailing/delivering other Envoy packets throughout the week ahead. Perhaps you’d like to let Nancy be a stowaway and become an Envoy? (Say yes.)

Tickled and grateful to be included alongside creative people filling the world with marvelous in the poetry of my talented friend Teresa Deak. Not only is Teresa a gifted poet and photographer, she’s just recently released a new set of tarot cards.

~~~~~~~~~

She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning and read your way current.
And there’s a pinterest board, too.

Nancy’s drawing:

My stitching:

“For many years I have made paper and loved doing so. I enjoy the connection to its history, the knowing that for thousands of years something has been made so simply and yet has such an amazing impact on our world. Yet often I deny the medium, focusing only on the “art”, the “message”. As I began to make the paper for this exhibit, I became very aware of the process. The mediation and rhythm and the absolute beauty of the paper itself became of primary importance” – Lori Goodman

(This quote – that talks about making paper, but for me, easily transfers over to my stitchings on cloth – found on this beautiful, inspiring blog.)

~~~~~~~~~

She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning and read your way current.
And there’s a pinterest board, too.

First, she draws:

Then I stitch:

Here’s the week’s worth for week 9, the Sunday Seven. Not very inspired photography, I know, but it’s raining outside and I’m pooped.

Came across this today. Seems to fit and feed right now.

“Pressures from the social structure enter into the whole process of wrestling the poem into being. The challenge is not to be intimidated by convention.

I have often said, “I want to perfect my craft so I won’t have to tell lies.” So often, when you’re stumped, the temptation is just to back down, but when you feel this is so complicated or so tenuous that there’s no way you can say it, you have to persuade yourself you can say it, that there is a way of saying it, that there’s nothing that is unsayable. And this gives you strength for the next time.

The poem, by its very nature, holds the possibility of revelation, and revelation doesn’t come easy. You have to fight for it. There is that moment when you suddenly open a door and enter into the room of the unspeakable. Then you know you’re really perking.”

Stanley Kunitz in The Wild Braid

~~~~~~~~~

She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning and read your way current.
And there’s a pinterest board, too.