So the place where I had the trees bugged me too much. I took it out. Lots of quilting and embroidery. It was a pain in the ass. And it was worth it. Still working on the pointies on this star. I am not good at making points not flat at the ends. This time I'm having better luck. Usually it's bunched up and flat at the tips. That striped fabric, it's beautiful undyed but dulling it with coffee or tea (I'm drinking more tea these days; coffee is giving me a hard time.) is giving me more of a dirty look. I like things that are old, aged, dirty, used, loved and over- loved. It's a comfort. Maybe it's why kids (and adults!) trust older people more. They have wisdom and a more relaxed attitude and the know how to go through the hard times and come out with joy.
The moon, yet to be fully anchored down (you know how moons are) I got in a grab bag from this feisty, beautiful woman. Same with the dark blue below it. I need to order from her again asap. Every scrap feels like a treasure. Those who cannot dye, buy. ;) (I cannot dye. I also can't drive a nail in straight despite spending so much time in my father's truck going to job sites and on my back roof with him doing carpentry.)
That middle block is not on the straight and narrow and it took the block below it with it, as well. Just like my kids; if one is up to mischief, the other is coaching or reinforcing with excessive laughter. But I like this a lot. Both the square and the kids' troublemaking, actually. Nicky has been more stable lately, these last few weeks. A few weekends ago he ...well I was alone with the kids and it took me nearly 20 minutes to peel him off me during some real bad aggressions. Kid went part vampire, part Springer on me. Then he was fine. Just denied access. Nicky is a clothie addict, too. One of his first visits into art was to nearly fall out of the cart picking out a green fabric for his first blankie at Jo Ann's. That thing, that precious thing has been cut to be salvaged; kantha quilted; and patched... and it's still alive and kicking. He loves all his mama's blankies. It's our bond. I get him and he gets me when it comes to textiles.
Troublemaker square with red leaf. Wed Weaf. Both kids took forever to talk; both I was told wouldn't speak a word after age 5 if they didn't before age 5; both are finally communicating now at ages 11 and 12, and while they're pretty far behind their peers in that regard, they're still progressing. Doctors think they know it all. smh.
I don't know what it is about this one but I feel good when I see it. On the recommendation of sweet Jude and her classes I grabbed some harem cloth to keep my star warm. Or to help it shine? The middle piece is about 100 years old. I had a log cabin quilt I found in an antique shop that was falling apart and I salvaged what I could. And flannel at the top, because I'm from Maine and we pretty much breathe flannel up here. No, we don't have bears roaming the streets (wait there was one up the street from here last year...) and yes we have most of our teef.
The star, with log cabins, chimneys, and little squares to keep it company. I know people love story cloths, but for me the story is so private, it's hard to make it come out. Every little fringed spot is a place where some memory is hiding, and every little 'error' in my stitching is a reflection of me coming to terms with something unrelated to sewing that I've decided to let be imperfect. If my mother was still alive, she'd like that. I can't believe it's been four years. I made a mini cloth for her. I should make a bigger one. Blacks, blues, browns, a little white- her style. Orange maybe. Pink to piss her off. She wasn't foo foo.