Tag: fall

130

She draws:

5 130 1 erased

Then I stitch:

130a

Mix red and blue, you get purple. (This is not a political statement, by the way.) In horticultural circles, purple is called “blue” or “horticultural blue”. In World War II, the Japanese used a secret code called the Purple Code. They didn’t know till after the fact that Allied cryptographers had broken the code. Purple auras represent a love of ritual and ceremony. In the Star Trek universe, Klingons had purple blood. Once upon a time, purple was reserved for royalty. In liturgical terms, purple is the color of Advent, a season of looking forward, of anticipating. In this project, purple represents Nancy’s favorite color.

Trees1

There’s no purple, that’s true, but driving through these mountains we now call home is like driving through a box of crayons

Trees4

through a painter’s palette

Trees3

through a basket of fabric scraps.

~~~~~~~~~

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.

stories, stories, everywhere and not a need for drink

Tentop1

Their father was strict – oh my goodness gracious, he was strict. He worked in a garage, and that’s probably why he wouldn’t let them wear shorts outside the house. Fortunately for the older sister, you could set a clock by her father, so in the summer she could lay out in the sun in her swimsuit and still make it inside, change, and be presentable and ready for supper when her daddy got home. They had an aunt named Mary (but everybody called her Aunt Mert cause they all had nicknames. Their Uncle Howard was called Paps. See, I told you: everybody had nicknames.) Aunt Mert was a mess. I mean that woman was a mischief maker. Once, when she was a teenager, Mert’s mother and grandmother dropped her off at church, and as soon as their car rounded the corner, Aunt Mert hopped in her friend’s car and off they went. But tragedy struck: the car wrecked. Flipped over, I’m telling you, and without even slowing down to check on anybody, Aunt Mert scooted on back up to the house where she was when her Mother and Grandmother got in from church. “Goodness gracious,” the grandmother said, “such a wreck you’ve never seen. Those poor young people flipped their new car. What a mess they left all over the road.” “Well, I hope none of them got hurt too bad,” Aunt Mert said. And I want you to know that the mother and grandmother never found out Mert was a passenger in that car.

Door1

Her first house cost $1600. Didn’t have an indoor bathroom, so they saved their money and took up part of the kitchen to build a bathroom. It was her mother’s idea. Her mother was real stupid until this woman got married, then her mother turned smart again.

Clock1

They came down umpteen years ago – 27 or 28 as they recollect – with a couple who they were friends with at that time. The couple moved from Connecticut to Charlotte, NC. After settling into their new home in Charlotte, the friends called one day. “Y’all want to come down and go to the storytelling festival with us?” The husband thought that was the most ridiculous thing he ever heard, so they declined. The next year, the friends called again: “Y’all want to go with us to the storytelling festival?” and this time the couple couldn’t think of a good excuse, so down they trotted from Connecticut to Charlotte where they loaded into one car and came over to the festival. That was either 27 or 28 years ago. Neither one can really remember. (This year the Charlotte couple is in Croatia and are appalled that the folks from Connecticut came to the storytelling festival without them.)

Corn

“Can you hear from back here?” she asked as she sat down next to me. “If they’ll be quiet,” I said, nodding to the two men sitting behind us. “If they make too much noise, we’ll just slap ’em,” a solution that seemed to tickle her. Turns out she’s the wife and grandmother of the men sitting behind us, so you might say that we hit it off right from the start. Her husband is named Brick, named after his Uncle Brick who grew up in Mississippi, two houses down from Tennessee Williams. By all accounts, Tennessee Williams was rather effeminate, and it doesn’t take a great store of imagination to know that made Tennessee a likely target for a fella named Brick. But then Tennessee grew up and wrote Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. With a character named and modeled after, you guessed it: Brick. That very childhood nemesis.

Steeple

Musicians accompany themselves and sing on the sidewalks. Streets are closed. Schools declare today a holiday and rent out their lots and buses. Churches open their doors and sell you soup, sandwich, desserts, beverage, cornbread, and crackers – all you can eat – for $7/person. For three full (and I do mean FULL) days, stories are told under big tents set up all over Jonesborough, Tennessee. The air is filled with stories, and not all of ’em are told on stage . . .

Pumpkin2

105

5 105 1 erased

105a

Did you ever feel the need to deconstruct something?

Skirt

To tear it apart?
I had that urge today,
so I ripped up this skirt
I bought in a thrift store a while back.
Bought it cause I liked the fabric.

Fog2

As I snip and rip and pluck,
the fog recedes

Leaves

and as though taking a cue from the leaves as they begin to turn,
my imagination begins to turn
to display ideas for this project.

Hangers

Which necessitates another trip to a nearby thrift shop for materials.

Of course.

~~~~~~~~~

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.

104

104a

The poet Rumi was born on 30 Sept 1207, which would make today his 800th birthday. I was first introduced to his moving, resonant poetry several years ago when a book of his poetry leapt off the bookshelf into my arms while visiting my son in Los Angeles. Hard to choose my favorite Rumi poem, but this one seems to fit today:

Be with those who help your being.
Don’t sit with indifferent people, whose breath
comes cold out of their mouths.
Not these visible forms, your work is deeper.
A chunk of dirt thrown in the air breaks to pieces.
If you don’t try to fly,
and so break yourself apart,
you will be broken open by death,
when it’s too late for all you could become.
Leaves get yellow. The tree puts out fresh roots
and makes them green.
Why are you so content with a love that turns you yellow?

Ode 2865 Trans. Coleman Barks

5 104 1 erased

Color1

Color3

Color4

Ferns

Soon enough, they’ll start cutting these:

Christmastrees2

~~~~~~~~~

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.

95

We’re skipping through the numbers now,
straying off the chronological path
as Envoy packets begin to wing their way back to me.
Today, signatures of fall
and signatures of Nancy.
Together.

95c

95a

5 95 9 erased

~~~~~~~~~

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.

’tis the season

fallleaves.jpg

i saunter and skip
through
nature’s crayon box containing at least 64 colors,
occasionally stumbling
into a hole
where the turning
sharpens
my perception,
my empathy,
my compassion.

(and maybe, just maybe
the turning
twists my ankle, too
but that’s far too specific
and not nearly
poetic enough to be the point.)

fallcolor2.jpg

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