Chasing Lightning Bugs Studio Blog

2012-01-29T06:16:00.003-05:00

the winter is something i have spent my life escaping. i stay inside and only dash out of doors when it's absolutely necessary. so this wonderful and enjoyable mild winter has almost passed without my appreciating it. but yesterday i was taking edgar out to walk along the water. it's been almost a month since he's been on a walk. he was having strange episodes of spasms in his front leg that would cause him to fall. he had one on our walk once and i didn't know if i'd get him home. so being out and away from the house just wasn't an option. but yesterday was beautiful and he hasn't had one in a while(a walk or a spasm), so off we went into january that felt more like november or march.....more like a transition month. and i felt myself enjoying winter. wishing every winter could be like this one. and realized that i'd missed most of it simply from habit. and that is when i thought of demie's roadside attraction challenge. although she wanted it to be a drawing challenge, every second at the studio has been in preparation for today's sale. so a photo will have to do (and i can never seem to follow directions anyhow.....) this tree is my roadside attraction. straight and ancient and as tall as an apartment building, it sits by the road and oversees and acts like a beacon, bringing me home.
today is our studio sale. i am easing into my day with a cup of tea and a few minutes writing here by the fire. but we'll be ready to welcome you to the studio today from 10 until 4. 55 mowat ave in portsmouth village. the little white house is full of goodness.

2012-01-28T09:10:00.002-05:00

the past week has been a little frantic. a pace that i set, but exhausted me nevertheless. i'm not used to living within limits. and this week i've grown obsessed with these fabric coil bowls. i hate to throw away my scraps..... and with the collection of fabric that i have gathered and that i use daily, i generate mountains of heart-tuggingly beautiful scraps. in the summer i was making farmhouse quilts from the fabric strips that remained after i cut squares. but there are always bags of smaller scraps that my brain tells me to just throw away, (and i sometimes do), but my heart tells me to store. so i have bags of them under tables and underfoot.
last week i was skimming through etsy to see what a standard length would be for the table runners i'm making from a lovely linen/cotton blend that i've been equally obsessed with lately. (i am driven by my obsessions). and i saw a fabric coiled bowl. and it just started me up.
so the studio has many new lovelies for our sale tomorrow. if you're around and looking to find a cozy destination on a late january sunday.....we are your spot. tomorrow, sunday january 29th, we'll be at 55 mowat ave in portsmouth village. come by anytime between 10 am and 4 pm.

2012-01-27T09:08:00.004-05:00

it's been a week like my younger self lived. i've been a little obsessed with making bowls from my fabric scraps and it's been keeping me up until 2 and 3 am. last night i was at the bookstore until 10 and then watched tennis and made bowls until 3. that's been happening all week. but i have some lovely bowls to show for it. and a worn out body. and that safe and happy feeling i get from watching tennis. but the mornings are killing me. that's when i know i'm not 20 anymore.
we are throwing open the studio on sunday at 10 am to welcome you all. there are fresh and lovely new encaustics and table linens and quilts and of course the new bowls i love. come to 55 mowat, anytime between 10 am and 4 pm on sunday the 29th to perk yourself up and bid adieu to january.

2012-01-25T08:57:00.005-05:00

some mornings i want to wake up in my childhood home. or walk in the front door and sit in the stream of sun that the cats always find. tuck myself in for a day or a week. the high ceilings and unending white walls that can still make me feel small and invisible and endlessly safe. there is really no house i love more. i'm lucky that i still have my childhood home and have my wonderful warm and loving parents living happily in it. for almost 38 years i've been coming home to it's welcome. it's timeless beauty and dreamy views. settled in the middle of 100 acres of farmed fields and woods and barns and a rocky quarry. this morning i would happily sit on the lumpy bottomed out couch in the kitchen that somehow never gets replaced. and just sit and soak in all the happiness in that room. or curl by the fire in the living room, reading, or pretending to play the piano. i'm tired this morning and i'm feeling it. but i'm heading over to the studio now to perk up and get a jolt of the joy back.

2012-01-21T08:33:00.003-05:00

blackberries, almonds, yogurt and tea. breakfast in the library by the fire. snow is falling past the windows, large and slow. edgar on his bed eating noisily. telulah covering the heat register entirely with her little black body, soaking in the heat. stella staring at me, incredulous that the computer is on my lap instead of her. and i will have a rare day to do as i please. deadlines aren't staring me down yet. my bookshelves call to me on days like this. they are snugly stuffed with books, yes. but there are layers of personal history as well. a biography in the round. dusty little treasures of a life. the bones of the story, balanced around the books. i love digging through those shelves and becoming other parts of myself in a single breath.
today i'll spend a few hours at the studio. and get a few jobs done at home. i'll watch tennis. and take edgar for a walk in the swirling snow. and then there may be time to sit with a book. i predict a lovely day.

2012-01-20T07:18:00.005-05:00

this morning i'm uncurling from sleep into a snowy, post-blizzard world. last night the wind and snow stirred up the streets and made driving home from the bookstore a bit treacherous. which made my bed and warm little family even sweeter.
an unattributed quote is humming through my thoughts. 'maudit soit a jamais le reveur inutile....'. i saw this on a blog as a photo of the words chalked on a paris sidewalk. she translated it beautifully as “forever cursed is the useless dreamer…'. and the melody of those words has been swinging through me since. un reveur inutile. a useless dreamer. or maybe an inactive dreamer. i think it's saying simply that the dream is made more true with ambition behind it. a simple active drive fuelled by hope. the movement keeps it alive.
today's photo is a detail of one of tracy's pieces that reached off the wall and wound it's way into me. this piece will live in me for a while. i would have liked to stare at it a little longer, but it sold immediately, making it's way out and into the world. an active and useful dream.

2012-01-19T10:51:00.003-05:00

i'm finding myself drawn to images that are seen through layers of clear. being close to tracy's encaustics has made me start noticing this more. reflections through layers of glass have always called out to my eye. and at the studio last night these chalky branches sat against the window. they look like they are trying to escape the dark and windy night. like limbs trapped under ice. i'm seeing that alot, color and line and image trapped beneath a murky and hard surface. tracy's wax. windows. glue. diaphonous layers that trap the movement and the image so it can be seen but not touched. is it a metaphor for winter? or is something more powerful emerging?

2012-01-18T20:58:00.006-05:00

photos from our studio sale tonight. i'm too tired to put words together. just photos. fresh and bright and pretty. i'll write more tomorrow!

2012-01-17T23:10:00.003-05:00

the wind is a dramatic performer tonight. the windows are vibrating and the trees are swaying. the lake is ferocious. and there is a roar outdoors. the noise is constant and unrelenting. i should be sleeping, getting nicely rested for our sale tomorrow. but i'm awake with the wind. upstairs my bath is waiting, all steamy and sweet. but i'm full of nervous energy that the wind is whipping up in me.
tomorrow is our sale (wednesday january 18th, from 3-8). i hope you can make it out to the little white house at 55 mowat ave in portsmouth village. we have lots of little goodies for you to fall in love with. so if you're out and about, stop in. our next sale will be on sunday january 29th from 10 - 4.

2012-01-16T22:42:00.002-05:00

i think this tangled mess of ice and branches is an apt metaphor for my mind lately. i've been working through some necessary decisions. complicated decisions that i know are sound and right. but difficult regardless. difficult because they involve others.
i have been blessed with a solid innate. i can trust my gut almost entirely. only in the last years have i realized how heavily i've relied on instinct throughout my life. and how well it has served me. the biggest decisions in my life have been made with very little agonizing thought, just a deep belief that what i was doing needed to be done. and so when i know something is necessary, it isn't complicated. the difficult part is when i need to communicate exactly why things need to be the way my gut tells me. hence, my tangled and frozen mind. but the thaw has begun!
i'm in the midst of making a lovely tall pile of napkin sets for willow and for our sale on wednesday. and there is a pile of gorgeous cotton canvas bookmarks that make wonderful 'just because'
gifts. of course i'll still have quilts and teatowels and journals, but there will be a few new things as well. this wednesday, january 18th from 3 pm until 8 pm at 55 mowat ave in portsmouth village.

2012-01-15T20:46:00.003-05:00

tonight tom walked to the store and bought ice cream. just because. and now he's making tea for us. i can hear the clinking spoon from the kitchen as he stirs in the honey. it's a good evening. watching football. and texting with flynn during the game.....letting him know my team was better than his. sort of watching the golden globes (just the funny parts and the pretty people). hanging out with cats draped on our laps. curled up under a quilt on the sofa with edgar. thumbing through magazines. and folding envelopes. and eating a little more ice cream. winter is upon us. and tonight, after working all day at the bookstore and then the studio, i am loving the laziness!!

2012-01-14T15:38:00.004-05:00

there was barely a taste of winter until 2 days ago. and then she came in earnest. trees dropping their branches all around our little stone nest. and then yesterday morning we found one of my favorite trees had uprooted and was propped on our porch roof. i must say, i was afraid for our little porch. the pillars supporting it must be 100 years old. or more. and the tree was heavy and solid. but luckily some of it's weight was still being supported at the ground. johnny came this morning with brutus. he climbed onto the icy cedar roof with his chainsaw and got to work cutting the tree into pieces before cutting it off at the stump and giving me the fun job of pulling the trunk off the roof. and the amazing thing is.....there was not a bit of damage. not even a cracked shingle. we were very very lucky. lucky not to have a hole in our porch, but also lucky to have wonderful friends. not only did johnny come straight over to help, but tracy, dave and sam came to join in the winter work as well. piling wood and dragging brush and breathing in the memorable scent of chainsaw oil, sawdust and snow. we had tea and hot chocolate with warm foamy milk. the sky was bright and the air was cold. and the house was warm. edgar was eager to play with brutus. or angry brutus was here. i'm not sure which. and we didn't find out. i kept edgar inside perched on the sofa. the men hauled away the brush. sam played playstation hockey. and tracy and i sat by the fire with our tea, talking.
so our wood is cut and piled. the brush has been taken to the recycling center and we are tired and cozy by the fire as the sky loses it's brightness and becomes night. it was a wonderful day!

2012-01-12T13:09:00.002-05:00

we woke to ice this morning. icy branches scraping across the roof and windows. the house sat quietly with no power until almost noon. the fire warming while tom played the guitar and sang. huge old trees on both sides of our house have snapped off in the past couple of hours. they narrowly missed our roof and windows....thankfully the stone corner that one did hit is strong. you can see edgar's fence will need to be repaired. the studio house sits in the background watching it all, but appears to be fine. the weather is a drama that i can't avoid.

2012-01-11T22:33:00.003-05:00

in the winter, our home is a happy little cave. i love it's rooms and it's walls and all the little spots that hide my myriad of treasures. the animals find cozy little spots to curl up together. (although edgar just got me out of bed to move stella.....she had him pinned on the sofa and he felt he couldn't move). if the cats are outdoors at night, they climb on the roof and find our bedroom window so we'll let them in and out of the cold. there are always piles of books. the kitchen with it's bare stone walls is a little colder than the rest of the house. but i love it...it's not too cold. and when i'm cooking or even just making tea, the windows steam delightfully. i'm drawn to the fireplaces like i am to the warm spot tom leaves in the bed when he rolls over. tonight we sat together by the fire. we watched tv and were thankful that although our refrigerator broke this morning and our milk was rotten, it cost less than $100 to fix it. and it was cool again in a matter of hours. it was a good day full of stories and projects in the studio. and a gentle evening of gratefulness at home.

2012-01-10T21:53:00.002-05:00

i've been having long naps in the evening when i come home from the studio. i'd rather get the house vacuumed. and the floors washed. i'd like to get our bedroom cozy and inviting again instead of messy with clothes and books that need to be put away. i'd like to finish re-organizing the blue room. and ultimately paint the blue room so it could be the gray room.....but i'm sure even when it is painted, it will still be known as the blue room. 13 years of referring to it as the blue room can't be erased with a paint job. but instead, i keep falling asleep on the sofa. i guess january is wintry and sleepy even when it's not cold and snowy.
i had a lovely day at the studio today. i have so many ideas and projects that i can jump between. it keeps my energy high to work on ideas as i have them. paper. painting. collage. combining all of it at times. but sewing is my meditation. i sew while my mind races with other ideas. today i kept popping up to tracy's bright little room to plan collaborative ventures. organizing our ideas for the month. for the year. our sales this month will be upon us soon. wednesday january 18th we'll be open from 3 p.m. until 8 p.m. for you to drop by and see all the new stuff we've been working on this new year. and then sunday, january 29th from 10 a.m. until 5 p.m. we'll have new surprises for you.

2012-01-09T22:40:00.005-05:00

new cards are out in the shop. and new table linens as well. i was busy making napkins and placemats today. and pulling fabrics with my eyes from the great piles of fabric around me. as i work on one set, i plan the next. i keep ahead of myself. and although i have 5 or 6 sets of placemats ready to go, i'm planning time for some small collages tomorrow. like the image i used yesterday. i'm prepping little canvas boards tonight and hoping to spend the morning finding just the right old images that will flow perfectly together into interesting little pieces.
so my head is spinning tonight with ideas....i can't wait to get over there in the morning. and maybe i'll have new stuff to show you tomorrow.

2012-01-08T22:52:00.002-05:00

i love repetition. large repetitive jobs quiet my mind. and fuel it at the same time. tonight i'm fashioning hundreds of envelopes. cutting, folding, gluing. the house is still. i fell asleep on the couch with edgar at 7.00 tonight and slept for almost 3 hours. so i have just become active as tom makes his way to bed. the fire is warming the library. i'm sipping perrier. and envelopes are flying from my hands. i love it. i am re-introducing a line of handmade and recycled cards to the studio this month. they are small and intimate using gentle little paintings for the imagery. and they demand their own little handmade envelopes. so back to work i go.

2012-01-07T23:03:00.002-05:00

i love the people i have in my life. the people who give my thoughts dimension. and bring smiles and warmth and happiness to my life. of course my family gives me all the goodness i can imagine. but then my friends come into the picture and they fill in all the blanks with love and energy and ideas and truth. the last few days have been full of fabulous long visits with sheila and tracy. and this evening wine and hockey around the fire with our wonderful neighborhood crew. moments of sharing time with people who make me a better person, people who i learn from and feel filled up when we part. it's a really good thing.
today we had a rainbow. a summery feeling storm hit in the mid afternoon. and in the foggy wet distance, a huge true rainbow rose out of the mist. i can't remember ever seeing a rainbow in january. it's been a special weekend.

2012-01-05T09:38:00.002-05:00

it's january and i awoke with little dreams of the heat of the sun bouncing off the lake and warming my skin the way it does in july. we are so fortunate to have tom's family cottage to enjoy every summer, but i am always hunting for the perfect little lot for us. i love snug and cozy spaces. i remember as a child reading 'little house on the prairie', having great daydreams about the house that pa dug out of the hillside. and our teacher read the hobbit aloud to us in grade 5.....the hobbit's little round rooms intrigued me equally. so when i saw this site www.simondale.net and the brilliant repurposed home they dug from the side of a hill.....my cottage dreams were launched into hyperdrive (i've been watching way too much star wars over the break with flynn & jee & tom).
curving plaster and barky branches...so safe and cozy and tree-like. and real. there is something so complete and true about this structure. it seeps deep into who i am.
so as the snow swirls weakly around my window this morning, i plan for my little summer nest in the woods by a lake.....and head to the studio to continue with real life.

2012-01-04T08:59:00.005-05:00

as i sit with my tea this morning my mind is all tangled up in the complexities of accomplishment. the last few days i've been going on about my personal shifts. they aren't shifts as much as u-turns, or more accurately, S-turns. looking back as much as forward. many years of making and selling. there is a calm sense of simplicity that my life demands. i chose it. i love what i do, but i think i haven't been doing it entirely.
there was the time i thought that being an artist was my destiny. but, after years of mucking around in the paint, i knew that being an artist of the new york gallery variety, wasn't for my life. i didn't thrive on the tortured, driven scramble it demanded. but i painted regardless. i had no intention of selling my paintings, i just had to paint. but i also made specific marketable items to sell. two entirely distinct ventures. the items i sell have always varied. but have always been very aesthetically different from my fine art sensibilities.
and now i am finding the blend happening. it's like the two sides of me that i've built a barrier between for decades, are beginning to break into each other, and possibly swirl comfortably together. i feel the urge to concentrate less on what my practical self tells me will sell, but rather what my artist self tells me to make.
so off i go across the yard to get to work.....

2012-01-02T09:00:00.005-05:00

there is a shiver in me. anxious and happy and excited to get to the studio. to organize and work and watch what comes from my first full day back. there is so much i'm moving back to this year. the core that i moved away from years ago to make money, is lurching back in. i know that i can make it all work in a smooth and artful motion. and although i know it's right, i'm feeling a little cramped and slightly paniced. maybe that's the anxious feeling....i'm running out of room.
so i wait for edgar to finish his breakfast. i drink a morning coffee with stella curled carefully on my knee. and the new year with all it's challenges stretches before me.

2012-01-01T22:35:00.003-05:00

it has been a wonderful week. i have puttered around the house. cleaning and organizing. throwing out the unneeded junk we accumulate and donating loads of things to charity shops. but today, i felt the shift. my mind gradually turning back towards the studio as it begins to pulse with new ideas and motivation. strangely, i was just admitting to tracy (through giggling) that my best ideas often come during or after watching any one of the 6 star wars movies. it has happened since the phantom menace came out 12 years ago. while watching it in the cinema, i had a fabulous idea that eventually successfully launched my first business. and this week we've watched 5 of the 6 movies....tom got them on blu-ray for christmas. my theory is that i watch them and enjoy them, but i don't pay much attention beyond the visual, letting my mind drift into it's own idea place and things percolate and digest over the hours the movie takes to watch. and often within the next day something brilliant overtakes me.
for the past 6 or 8 weeks i've felt the lovely soothing monotony of colorless cotton or linen or paper. i immersed myself in color for many years and i am feeling a faded quiet and calm wash across my work now. natural, unbleached. or neutral and earthy. and i feel the potential of painting. i found paintings tonight that i used to do on mylar...sensual and smooth and transparent. i love them. small and engaging and satisfying. and the itch to feel the glide of the brush is growing stronger.
so, on the morrow, i will build the heat and the energy and the startle of idea in the studio again.

2011-12-31T11:53:00.004-05:00

the dishes are washing. edgar is fed. we are fed....we had a lovely cabernet-franc jelly on our sprouted grain toast to begin new years eve in style. the fire in the library has a couple of cats clustered around it and i'm feeling nostalgic. i don't like sudden change. i love gradual comfortable shifts. but knowing that in 12 hours i will have no choice but to write a new and unfamiliar year every time i write the date.....it gives me a little start of panic. at the end of every year i obsess about growing accustomed to a new year. i wonder how it will sit in my belly. how it will feel on my tongue. and every year it settles in naturally as i'm sure this one will as well. and to be honest, i was never thrilled with the lopsided aesthetic of 2o11. especially after my love affair with 2o1o....a perfectly balanced year that included my 1o.1o.1o birthday which made my libra sensibilities soar in delight. and moving on to 2o12, i just need to let it warm up slowly and off we'll go. i hope it is prosperous and safe and healthy year for all.....

2011-12-30T22:34:00.003-05:00

the warmth of a bowl of tea in my hands. the rain freezing as it falls. both fires in the house burning. the library dimly lit. the living room full of us. warm and sleepy. edgar stretched on the sofa, filling it completely with his fine long legs and his snores. stella fast asleep on my legs. tom smiling with his headset on listening to a live phish show. the year is coming to a close. i can feel the slow drizzle of time as it slips away. and in compensation, i feel plans gliding into place as the luxury of time opens up before me. my dreams are filled with ideas and i feel a new dominant calm.

2011-12-29T11:06:00.003-05:00

the sun filtered through cold hitting my windows without leaves interfering. it's strong and true and makes cleaning satisfying and frustrating. i love the smell of clean wood. and the bleachy scent of the kitchen floor. the dishwasher humming along with sarah harmer belting out from my lovely bose ipod dock that sits on the kitchen island. a little fire in the dining room stove. and a cat on a folded quilt soaking in the heat from the fire and the light from the sun. sleep comes easily on days like this. a busy morning of accomplishment followed by a lazy afternoon.

2011-12-28T00:33:00.002-05:00

there is something about the last week of the year. it's always a special week for me. this year i am relaxed and motivated, determined to get my house organized like it once was before i spent every second in the studio. i'm staying away from the studio this week and putting all my energy into our house. i'm anxious to create the warmth of a gathering space in our kitchen again. the comfort and dreaminess of a kitchen is a special thing. and my kitchen has lost that lately. and the 'blue room' has become that room that collects everything we don't have a spot for. and there's been alot of that over the past few years. i'll be moving things around, donating and discarding and scrubbing and getting my house back.

2011-12-26T17:53:00.002-05:00

yesterday was the most lovely day with both our families. in the morning we headed to my parents in the country, opened gifts and had a wonderful vegetarian christmas dinner, before coming back into town for more gifts and a second dinner (with turkey this time)with tom's family and little 6 week old baby luca. we came home after midnight marveling at how fortunate we are to have such amazing families.
but really, our christmas was this morning. boxing day is always our christmas with flynn and jee. we usually go to their place and have a lovely visit, opening gifts and sharing in all the kid excitement. but this morning sheila had an appointment and norm had the flu, so the plans changed. she dropped the boys off with us, complete with a laundry basket full of christmas gifts. flynn lugged in his electric guitar and amp that santa brought him. and the fun began. flynn played christmas songs. and rock and roll songs. and the muppets 'rainbow connection'. tom played too and jee grabbed a drum and started playing 'rumpa pum pum'.
they had recorded a book for us....'charlie brown's christmas' for tom and me. and 'twas the night before christmas' for my parents. of course i was teary-eyed. and they were as excited when we opened our presents as when they opened theirs. flynn has become so wise and adult-like that it was wonderful to see his face explode in childish thrill at the lego pod-racer. and jee, the little actor, wore his super-hero cape and knight cape with great aplomb.
but when they all settled around the fire to watch tom's new star wars blu-ray, specifically the pod race scene from the phantom menace....for some reason, that was my favorite moment. so familiar and soft and relaxed....flynn wrapped up in edgar like he always ends up being. and jee climbing on tom's lap, making sure we all knew that he knew all about annikin eventually becoming darth vader. these boys that i love so desperately seem to always fall back on watching star wars in some form...their very happiest times together. and they let me share it with them.

2011-12-24T06:28:00.003-05:00

tom has always wanted a la-z-boy. and i have never wanted one. ever. we have a leather armchair and ottoman that has grown perfectly aged and i always thought it was comfortable and beautiful and perfect. but this year tom began talking about a la-z-boy again. in earnest. and so the negotiations began. i wanted to not hate it. i hoped i would like it. but i had to not hate it. and it needed to be absolutely completely comfortable for tom.....no compromising on that one. so we started looking. it would be his christmas gift. i had in mind a leather armchair similar to the one we have that had the hidden 'benefit' of being a recliner. we tried several, and although i would have 'not hated' several of them, tom didn't find them super comfortable. and then we found this oak, craftsman styled chair. i didn't love it and didn't hate it. but i did like it. tom loved it. it was definitely the most comfortable for him. so we ordered it. and although they had given us a delivery time of january, it arrived yesterday morning and sits in it's spot like it's always been a part of our home. now i love it. and tom loves it even more. my theory of a natural flow of choosing pieces that work for the individuals in the home rather than the decor of the home has worked once again. nothing in our home is of a particular style or color scheme. but it all surrounds us with love and makes a beautiful home.
merry merry christmas!

2011-12-22T22:52:00.002-05:00

what a day! i woke up sore and tired and overwhelmed with exhaustion. but i still had work in the studio. and i also had a shift to work at the bookstore. i wasn't sure how i could do it all. but as usually happens, i pushed through and the kinks started to work out. i have spent the last months kickin' it in the studio, but entirely neglecting my house. i had hoped to get some time cleaning and christmasizing our happy little house, but i just couldn't get to it before it was time to leave for the bookstore.
however, the most beautiful thing happened when i arrived at the bookstore. christmas was waiting for me in the secret santa box. the most beautiful centerpiece of evergreens and pears, candles and even a precious little bird. i couldn't believe it was for me. amanda works on cash with me. we don't have much time overlapping our shifts, but enough to have short visits and learn little things about each other. she must have learned that i love beautiful things, because she chose this magnificent gift for me. i brought home christmas tonight. thank you lovely amanda!

2011-12-20T08:42:00.002-05:00

there is a new sweetness blooming from the studio. since tracy and trisha have started working with me in the space, it has transformed. a wonderful energy radiates and the gentle soothing scent of beeswax swings in the air. and i'm falling for it hard. i feel myself thinking about beeswax when i have other matters that should be filling my mind. the scent, the hue, the fascinating varied ways it can be used. tracy's encaustic pieces, made from layers of melted and pigmented wax on salvaged boards or panels, are gripping and subtle and infused with the scent of honey. this owl is just one example of her work. tracy gets her wax locally, from a man who is passionate about the goodness in the wax. and he transforms the beeswax he obtains from a local beekeeper into candles that i fell instantly in love with. tracy and her friend laurie were selling the candles from laurie's home, offering them at a great price as wonderful gifts. i spent every dollar in my wallet on candles at the candle party, and when i got home and started imaging how i was going to wrap them and give them as gifts to my friends, i felt i should have them in the shop for others to give as well. so i gave a few away, burned one and put the rest in the shop.
i learned that they are made by a man who has recently come to canada from tibet. and he has a beautiful soul. there is apparently a series of waiting periods in the process of making these candles. and he takes this time as a meditative prayer time, with the intention of infusing the candles in goodness. you can breathe the goodness in the candles. and they send a fresh clean healing energy into the air as they burn.
so we feel fortunate to have tracy's melting wax permeating our space. and the lovely images that come from it. and the candles. and who knows what will come in the new year (the endless possibilities in my collage work won't stop niggling at me)
come to the our last minute studio open house/sale tomorrow, wednesday december 21st from 3 until 8. at 55 mowat avenue, steps from the lake, in beautiful portsmouth village. come breathe a little beeswax.

2011-12-19T07:24:00.004-05:00

the fine detail of a life can so easily get overlooked for the larger drama. but the tiny stories sometimes intrigue me more than the great ones. the tales of woe and wonder are expected to make you gasp and beg for more details. but a little story that soothes and makes me dream myself into it, i like it. like the little group of four geese who just flew past my window and made my heart leap a little. they made my groggy morning with their silent glide past my window. and now the morning sky has changed from a monotonous still gray to a vibrant pink and blue collection of thick clouds lit from behind, moving quickly with the wind. and then as i watch, the shapes flatten, changing clouds to sky. so the separation is removed and i just see a flat glow of pink suede. morning stillness and the luxury of noticing.....
today i'll prepare totebags and napkins for our wednesday afternoon/evening sale. swing by and finish your list with a few last minute gifts and enjoy the verve that is our little studio. wednesday the 21st from 3 until 8.....we will be there to welcome you at 55 mowat avenue in portsmouth village.

2011-12-18T06:28:00.005-05:00

waking up far too early. the night silences echoing around the room. i finally came downstairs and stared at the tv for a couple hours. and now i'm almost ready to go back to bed. i'm yawning which is both good and a little annoying. maybe an hour of sleep will find me before i need to get ready to head to the bookstore to work 5 hours, finish my shopping and hopefully have energy left to come home and sew late into the night.
this week on wednesday the 21st we are opening the studio for a last minute event from 3 until 8. come by after work and pick up amazing gifts for the special people in your life. 55 mowat avenue in beautiful portsmouth village!

2011-12-17T07:25:00.002-05:00

morning has come with the slightest layer of snow on the rooftops. the dissected view of my lavender tree and the heavy gray morning clouds pull me into my little corner on the couch that i love so. edgar brought me downstairs early this morning and i've been puttering. it's a cold morning. the kitchen floor is icy on my bare feet.....sometimes slippers are a good thing. the cats are beginning to stretch and preen. tom brought home fudge from his mother's the other day and i just had an early morning taste. it's wonderful with coffee. edgar has had his tour around the yard and is ready for some breakfast. and ellsworth decided the call of freedom is tempered by the shivery air. the day is started with a chilly twist.

2011-12-16T21:46:00.003-05:00

edgar is sleeping stretched on the couch. the tree is lit and reflecting in the window. we are home from the neighbors, after watching 'national lampoon's christmas vacation', in front of the fire with hot chocolate and bailey's, brie cheese and triscuits and wonderful warm company. a beautiful conclusion to a difficult week.
i spent this week trying to get used to a new sewing machine. a frustrating and stressful proposition. a machine that was supposed to make life in the studio smoother and simpler but instead introduced a level of frustration more intense than i've felt in years. it's an industrial machine that insists on huge needles and thread that feels like rope, something i wasn't told when i ordered it. it's not even sort of the right machine for what i do. the plan had been to get a heavy duty machine for my quilts and the quilted things i make that can get quite bulky. and this was the machine that was erroneously recommended by the man who services my current machine. i feel like i've been hoodwinked. it has been a week and i've been unable to take a single stitch. i've wasted so much time trying to sort this all out, being reduced to tears too many times to admit. and all during the time i'm struggling to keep up with all the studio demands to begin with. i quickly realized quilts were out of the question with this ogre. but even when i'd wrapped my head around the idea that this would be good to have when i wanted to make totes or even books, to sew through leather or heavy bookboard or canvas, i still was unable to make it work. and when i took it back for the 2nd time and the dealer had the same trouble, i was torn between feeling vindicated and wishing it had been something simple that i'd overlooked, just to save the time and be back in the studio. so the new machine that my wonderful supportive parents bought me as a christmas gift sits staring hatefully at me in the studio creating tension and angry energy. and yet, my gut tells me that i should keep it even if it is driving me to distraction. i'm not sure why yet, but i feel it has a spot in the studio. maybe something i will make in the future needs this machine. it hasn't been easy keeping tantrums in check this week, anger i never feel, bubbling quickly and violently to the surface, forcing me to engage all the self-control i can find. it was a good thing to employ those skills again.
so, i will stop complaining and be thankful i am able to do what i love and promise this monstrous new machine that i will one day grow to admire it.

2011-12-14T22:10:00.004-05:00

ok, so it's about a boy. this one regret. my paris regret. and when i search my memories to find a companion for it, i can't find one. i've made mistakes. lots and lots of not great decisions. but only one true regret. (tom says i should regret writing yesterday's blog and making you all curious about the regret.....he makes me giggle).
so in my mid-20s, paris was my home. for 5 or 6 years, when i wasn't there i was making plans to be there. i walked away from the biggest love i'd known or would ever know (until tom) to pursue her call. paris was a multi-layered lover. yet i still kept coming back to my michigan boy. i couldn't stay faithful to either one of them. i needed them both. and when i fell into a relationship of convenience in paris it grew ever more complicated. a man who was friends with my friends and who wooed me with his flawless parisienne french. this affair lasted a couple of years, complete with an engagement. but the truest part of me couldn't let go of the real love. and it made me a person i cringe to think of now, indecisive and whimpery at times. but i can't consider that my regret. my regret was simply this.....the last time i was in paris, 16 years ago. i was there for a month, wandering and photographing and seeing and thinking. sharing paris, absorbing her, and without knowing it, saying goodbye. i stood in one of the phone booths on the street talking to michigan, like i did so many days, with her blue april skies and the sounds and smells of her streets surrounding me. and he told me he had made arrangements to come for 5 days to be with me in paris. and i refused him. i told him not to come. that i didn't want him to come, although i did so very much. i didn't know how to reconcile all of the confusing emotions so i buried them and crushed him. that is my regret. and as a penance i have never returned. there were so many times the opportunity was there, but i felt tied and heavy and unable to bear the weight of my regret.

2011-12-13T23:16:00.008-05:00

i have sentences that slip through my mind and disappear before i can write the words. they drift in and around, draped between my thinking and my doing. tonight i was walking out of the bookstore. it was about 10.30. the streets were dark and wet from a simpering rain. lights coming from locked stores. the smells of tobacco and diesel and rain woven into one scent. for a moment i had paris in my veins. an empty candlelit bistro. a purposeful step on a dark dreamy street. and my mind bustling with words and images wrapped in ideas. the paris years for me were full of burgeoning ideas that felt huge and marvelous. that i had the luxury to explore and the youthfulness to leave unfinished. distracted by the next idea. these were the wonder years that cocooned my puzzling ideas, leaving me with only one regret and a lifetime of fuel.

2011-12-13T01:06:00.003-05:00

it feels like months since i've sat and relished the peace of a clean house. today i mostly stayed away from the studio. tom and i ran errands together. we bought our christmas tree and some ornaments. i bought plants because i've been craving the smell of green.
and tonight i hunted down dirt and dust. i washed and moved things and scrubbed and bleached. i vacuumed and rearranged. and put out all the tacky little ornaments that tom loves so dearly from his childhood. they are his memories of christmas and over the years they have become mine as well. it's 1.30 a.m. .... later than i usually stay up. but i had to get this place clean and christmas-y. i will put away the dishes and go to bed.

2011-12-12T10:45:00.002-05:00

yesterday was parfait!!! the flooding sun. the stream of wonderful people through the doors. the fresh bright conversation and laughter. the feeling of support and warmth as our friends brought friends to see our shop and hunt for gifts. and the exhaustion at the end of the day as we sat with our glasses and talked about the people we met, the stories we heard, the items we sold and how we look forward to our next sale. and i thank the people who were able to come share our day in person, as well as the wonderful people who read my blog and send me encouragement and good wishes, consistently fueling me and keeping me focused on living my own little dream of a life.
thank you for a fabulous day yesterday. and the promise of many more

2011-12-10T23:47:00.002-05:00

we are ready. or so close to ready that the final little tweaks can happen in the morning. the studio is delightfully prepared to welcome all for our christmas/holiday sale. tomorrow, sunday december 11th from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. tracy's encaustic paintings are making the upstairs sweet and warm with their beeswax colourings. trisha's dreamy, wool-filled waldorf dolls are smiling and napping throughout the little white house. there are tracy's sensual felted scarves, thick and soft and sexy. and trisha's fun, upcycled menswear purses. i have feather pillows and photos, collages and quilts. it's a wonderful holiday sale and we are excited to show you around. beautiful portsmouth village is the perfect spot for a sunday outing.....a walk along the harbour, through the lakeside park, and a visit to chasing lightning bugs studio at 55 mowat avenue.

2011-12-08T23:28:00.003-05:00

i can barely hold my eyes open right now. i'm just getting home from the bookstore after a full day in the studio. but i had these lovely photos of my paper room in my inbox from wonderful tracy of beautiful day. it's here that i can lose myself for days. the piles of paper, the images. the smell of glue, the light, the slanted ceiling. tracy shot these last week while i was in the paper up to my knees, making the collage corkboards. i kept promising to post photos of the paper room, and i love showing it to you now through tracy's wonderful eye.
she found the little details that speak of me. that describe what i do and who i am and what drives me. i love these photos....they are the paper room completely. little scraps of me.

2011-12-07T08:28:00.002-05:00

i will always hear my grandmother's voice telling me i had a 'lazy man's load' when i piled too many things in my arms instead of making 2 trips. she said it was something that her grandmother said to her. i wonder what the 2 of them would have said this morning as i struggled up the stairs with a laundry basket full of 2 loads of clean, dry, unfolded laundry and a full to the brim mug of steaming black coffee. i don't know why i needed to carry them both at once. but we made it. now the bath is filling and i'll have coffee in my steamy lavender oil bath. i wonder if the lavender and caffeine will cancel each other.
yesterday i contended with lack of direction for part of the day. i kept doing things, but not the major things. i rendered 2 sewing machines useless, and was able to repair one to perfect smooth running order again. i framed photos and made gift tags and wrapped beeswax candles in twill tape and floral illustrations. but i was supposed to be sewing and couldn't get it going. but eventually i did and 6 beautiful pillows came of it. and after my lavender and caffeine bath, i'll be back at it for another wonderful day!

2011-12-06T06:03:00.007-05:00

the house is quiet and the day is still dark. i relaxed in a steamy bath full of lavender oil last night before bed, so i slept perfectly. my wonderful co-workers have rallied to help cover a couple shifts at the bookstore this week, so i'll have another 12 hours in the studio today. sewing and cutting and gluing. at some point i'll have to start cleaning up the creative mess as well.
this morning as i was groggily glancing at facebook, a random photo and comment appeared in the newsfeed. a photo of a beautiful white farmhouse with barns and shade trees, fields and pennsylvania's blue mountain rising up behind. and as i was admiring this photo from a perfect stranger that one of my friends had commented on, it was mentioned that this house full of memories and laughter, heartache and triumph was going to be used as a practice burn by the local fire dept. i can't wrap my head around things like this. when beautiful old houses are overlooked and underloved, it's like the architectural version of elder abuse. all the beautifully aged wood, the trims and decorative features.....and the spirit of the house. my sentimental self takes over completely. and i feel an ache for the life that those walls protected through generations. i suppose that the purpose it is serving in training firefighters is an honorable one, but i can't help but be saddened regardless.
i will sew again today and enjoy the wonderful energy pool that is flooding the studio right now and absorb the dreamy energy of the 180 year old house that shelters us.
our christmas studio sale is this coming sunday, december 11 from 10 until 4. i'll be reminding you every day....

2011-12-04T22:32:00.003-05:00

yesterday morning, while i was in the bath, 2 low vees of geese flew past the window, just above the dark leafless trees that spread across the window pane. i could hear them but only saw a glimpse of them. the trouble was that the bedroom air conditioner was still in the window, blocking half of my view. the little window is paned with old bubbled glass and sits over the kitchen roof. i love that window. i used to climb out of it and sit on the roof to read. i must be getting old. i don't do that anymore.....oh right, the damn air conditioner is blocking me. so, my impetuous self took over. i climbed out of the tub, wrapped up in a towel, and hauled the damn thing out of the window. but it was also heavier than i remember. alot heavier. and i was in a towel. tom came home last night to find it dropped in the bedroom doorway. but my window was clear and i had the loveliest bath this morning. the sky. the trees. the flags from the harbor. the gorgeous stone walls of the prison. and at night the moon fills the window for a while as well.
and since i'm in the paper zone and i've been showing you the corkboards i've been making, i thought i'd give you a peek at a couple of my collage pieces. above is 'napoleon unpeeled' and below is 'the dance'. both were done this summer.
i need to sew tomorrow. make some stockings and more christmas napkins. but i will be in mourning for the paper, i'm sure of it. but i must prepare for our studio sale. the grand gala of christmas sales is happening a week from today on sunday december 11th from 10 a.m. until 4 p.m. if you are local, be sure to swing by. i'll keep reminding you!

2011-12-03T16:58:00.004-05:00

it takes a little while to get the momentum solidly in place. and finally i've found it....although i need to get back to the quilts soon. but the last few days in the paper room making these collage corkboards have been wonderful. i had a bit of trouble adjusting the composition to such a large size. these are poster size corkboards, and i had a hard time finding the right proportion. but i got there. and my other problem was pulling myself back....remembering that these aren't fine art collage on panel, but more simple and less intricate pieces of functional art.
tonight we're going to meagan's to watch 'home alone' to get the christmas spirit in full swing....but i think i'll sneak out and head next door to the studio for a while if it's not too rude. i'm working on a fifth and i want to finish it tonight. i really don't want to stop.

2011-12-02T22:07:00.002-05:00

all day yesterday i cut paper, thumbed through images, glued, scraped, squinted, stared. i love making the functional art pieces i'm working on. beautiful collage corkboards. i'm working on 4 at a time which works for me. when i find a fabulous image that doesn't work for one piece, it may work in another. so i scurry around from board to board, making little worlds on cork.
tracy took photos of the paper room the other day. when she gets them uploaded, i'll post them. i know with her clear and true eye, you will see the paper room as you would if you clomped up the stairs yourself and into the slope ceillinged little yellow room high in the trees looking out on the lake. i'm heading there now. letting the papers settle overnight and looking at them anew in the morning light is a good thing. i was there until 9.30 last night and my choices might have started losing the sharpness that i rely on.
so off i go. i'll get photos of the boards. and tracy's photos will come soon. i just don't have the patience to wait for the photos to post. the little story of my day was just begging to be blurted out....

2011-12-01T07:03:00.005-05:00

the trees are scribbling their lines against the sky. the sun is coming up orange. i've been awake a couple of hours. reading blogs. working on photos. ordering prints. too groggy to make coffee. content to curl in a quilt with the computer propped on my lap. a cat warming my feet. hearing the sounds of the village waking. the furnace beginning it's morning drone. a truck rattling the window as it passes on it's way to work on the house being built around the corner. tom complains when i start my bath too early. my porcelain and iron, clawfoot bathtub that is tucked in a corner of our bedroom is one of my favorite things. i love that it's part of our bedroom, that i can soak in a steamy, oil-scented bath and still be part of the bustle of our little life. (link to an earlier post about my tub with a photo)however, when i would love a bath at 5 a.m. after edgar has dragged me from bed and i might as well have an early start to the day.....the tumble of water is too loud and i just can't do it to my sleeping husband. besides, he'd destroy my bath with his complaining. yes there is a bathtub in the bathroom, but i don't think i've ever had a bath in it. it feels icy and stiff and not at all what i have in mind for my bath.
i'm heading to the studio early. the paper room is luring me...

2011-11-30T09:10:00.003-05:00

another dreary morning. a day to build a few quilt tops. and then migrate upstairs to my beloved, underused paper room. it sits in the trees, above the lake that is whipping wildly. the bare horseshoe pits. and edgar's personal peripherique. he has worn a path around the edge of the side yard that sits beside the studio and our house. he rarely ventures into the middle of the yard, but prefers his little path. i always think of paris and her encircling highway.
the last couple of months, the allure for paint has been building. and my need to start piecing yellowed images together to form new edge-y little collage pictures is strong too. and i'm prepping photos. they are all conspiring and demanding attention.
but now a shift has happened since i started writing this. i'll build the quilts this afternoon. off i go on a little spur of the moment road trip this morning to clear my head. to my parents to hunt for wood. and then home to concentrate on all the goodness coming forth!

2011-11-28T08:56:00.003-05:00

the twisting splashy sounds of the laundry washing upstairs. edgar is stretching his head into my hand and i run my finger along the standing up cowlick between his eyes and along the bridge of his nose. the morning school bus just rattled past and i mutter to myself...'oh, it's 10 to 9 already'. i tell time by the school bus, morning and afternoon. tom brought me coffee. my hair is still wet and heavy. i'm on the sofa in the library poring over the photos on my laptop. i have decided to print photographs to sell in the studio. it's a long and tedious task. but i love it. i love making lists of maybes and then making folders and then sending them to be printed and then picking them up and holding them in my hands. i'm a sucker for the process. i can't enjoy the end result of anything if i don't enjoy the process.

2011-11-27T15:31:00.003-05:00

it seems almost like i've lost a couple of weeks. lost in the tenor of each day. all of it too swift. work slicing away my daily choices. with nothing in the reserves. i had to cut out the necessities. like cleaning and cooking and at times, bathing and sleeping. but today i've been able to stay away from the studio. granted, i worked at the bookstore all morning and part of the afternoon. but i'm home, and starting to feel that i can decide the direction of the rest of my day without thinking i should instead be at the studio. i'll finish my tea and start in the kitchen. and if the storm that appears to be brewing does arrive, the house will be cozy and almost clean. but cozy is what matters most. edgar has been walked among the ducks and the high, white-capped waves. we have dvds to relax with tonight.....all is well in our little cave.

2011-11-24T20:56:00.003-05:00

it was a dreamy sort of underlit day. gray and soft with warmth lifting up out of the earth. we had picked my parents up at their house and drove through charming towns for a little more than an hour. we drove along winding roads, beside little lakes, through farms and stands of white birch. we saw an owl. we saw an eagle. we saw 2 deer lunching in a field. and we ate a peaceful, relaxing lunch as our thanksgiving meal. it was exactly the break my mind needed. we took my parents home and headed home to watch football. but i took tom home to feed and walk edgar while i had to run errands....the fabric store. thread. muslin. unbleached canvas. i started to get all into the studio headspace again although i'd promised tom a real thanksgiving football watching evening.
and then i arrived home to the most lovely surprise of a package on the dining room table. i gave a little yelp and squealed "is it from norway?" of course it was. a package from my lovely demie. demie of the fabulous blog paraphernalia. check out her new shop. i love it. i had ordered a little packet of the loveliest ethereal cards (top image) and she included this wonderful limited edition print (below) that sits perfectly in my red kitchen against the raw stone wall. my day is complete. my smile is true. i have the energy to take it all on. and demie, you are like a dove sending a limitless fluttering of kindness. and i kept my promise to tom and we've had a lovely evening without studio interuptions!...happy thanksgiving.

2011-11-23T09:39:00.002-05:00

my house is inside out. it's messy and dirty and dusty and unkempt. tomorrow is thanksgiving and my parents are supposed to be coming to dinner. but i only have motivation for the studio. my mind is tired along with my body, but when i find myself surrounded with my work, i feel the drive take over. when my hands are moving in the fabric, there is an energy swell. and when i stop, i droop. this will be my reality for the next weeks as the holiday season moves into full swing. so i give myself over to the mess in my house. i have to allow it until i have the energy and time to devote to cleaning. i hope that happens next week. but we'll go out for our thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. it disappoints me yes, to lose the cozy evening by the fire with football and family. but the studio is careening along and i'm riding along with it.

2011-11-22T22:46:00.005-05:00

the rain is freezing when it hits the ground. wet and icy. yesterday tom replaced our screens with the storm windows. and the extra layer of glass leaves me feeling a bit trapped. the storm windows act a little like a cage, stealing my breath. but when icy rain is slapping on the panes, there is also a sense of safety and cozy protection. while i was dashing in from the car after work, ellsworth was waiting in the yard crying at the horrible conditions. he slipped on the icy porch scurrying to the house. and i smile opening the door into the kitchen, warm and bright and messy. home. into our safe little double-paned world.

2011-11-21T07:16:00.002-05:00

enter november. today i can feel the november-ness in the air. chill and stark. cats finding their indoor spots to curl up near a heat vent or fireplace or pile of quilts.(i woke in the night with my arm wrapped around stella's warm little gray body, under the duvet. she had arranged herself into the maximum comfort and warmth position in the house) the lake looks like steel. trees are lines on the sky. my skin feels dry and stiff from the dry furnace air. i wrap my throat in a scarf now. and socks are surfacing again. and the christmas cactus is in full dramatic bloom. the shift has happened. we are on our way to winter.

2011-11-20T10:06:00.003-05:00

i just discovered that my holiday napkins were featured in one of the hgtv blogs. this particular pair that they featured is sold, but there are certainly more in the studio. and i'm working away, making many more sets. check out the blog to see other delightful items from etsy and elsewhere to make your holiday season festively vintage. my online sales are through etsy. but i also sell from my studio and various local retail shops.

2011-11-19T12:51:00.011-05:00

my sweet edgar has been ill. i came home from my evening with naomi last night to find edgar unwell. diarrhea that he couldn't control and couldn't get himself up and outside before there was a mess. this happened every half hour or so until 5 a.m.
although the mess was horrible, the worst part of the sleepless, stressful night was the worry about bloat. great danes often die from stomach torsion, a condition where gas and bloat cause the stomach to twist, cut off blood supply and create a gangrenous mess in their gut. all night i was checking his stomach, his color, his discomfort level. diarrhea isn't usually associated with bloat, but i'd never seen anything like this. and i didn't want him to sense my worry and stress. he didn't sleep. i didn't sleep. i called the emergency vet at 1.30 but since the hardness in his belly would come and go, i felt better waiting until my wonderful vets opened at 8 a.m. and although we showed up at 8 a.m. without an appointment, they were wonderful, bringing us right in, getting a bag of iv fluid into him, giving him an anti-gas treatment, and we were assured that he had a virus of some sort. so we are home. he is finally sleeping. heavily asleep. and i'm lying on the couch while we wash loads of laundry full of his soiled quilts and bedcovers. it sure is a sleepy house today. and relieved. happily sleepy and relieved.

2011-11-18T20:47:00.006-05:00

tonight we are lounging about with sweet naomi. sneaking halloween candy from her stash. playing wii. telling stories. watching the borrowers on netflix. it's a cozy little evening. i told her she's in charge. i'm just the adult that is around for convenience sake. we're having a great time of it.
outdoors the wind is wild. i'm sure the lavender tree will be naked in the morning. the cats of the neighborhood (of which there are so very many) have all scuttled into their homes. winter is indeed in the air and i wouldn't be surprised if there was a scattering of snow in the morning. we must get our storm windows on in the next few days. and get some wood in from my parents farm. and then, well, after that winter might as well get on with it.

2011-11-17T22:59:00.003-05:00

today was my grandmother's birthday. i thought of her all day. today she would be 106 years old. i can't believe it's been 14 years since she died. her presence is still so wonderfully strong. i feel her pull me along every day as i sew. i have wonderful heirlooms from her. a quilt that she made me when i was 14 sits in the studio with me. and this lap throw she made for my grandfather is on the settee in our bedroom. crocheted granny squares (i love that part) that she made just large enough to cover my grandpa's legs when he was sitting in his recliner. i love this. the colors. the touch of her hand. i can see them sitting in their chairs together. i can feel their presence. there was always a gentleness in the air around them. gentleness with a pulse of energy and electricity. happy birthday grammy.

2011-11-17T10:01:00.003-05:00

my kitchen smells of the ymca pool. humid and echo-y. the 1970s. a child standing under a weak shower surrounded by naked women of all ages and sizes. heavy wet hair hanging down my back. and the huge windowless room full of pool and tile and tepid water, soaked in the scent of chlorine. my kitchen carries it all back to me in a rush this morning. i washed the floor with bleach and the scent is just strong enough to take me back to my 10 year old self, swimming at the ymca.

2011-11-16T08:09:00.004-05:00

sleep has been uneven this week. and my mind is swamped with piles of ideas for things i need to make before december 1st. at least tom forced me out of the studio yesterday to go with him to buy groceries. fresh fruit in the house always makes the day more energetic.
my favorite tree (the lavender tree) is still in full leaf. i call it the lavender tree because before chasing lightning bugs took every spare second and i still allotted time to gardening, my front garden was a swirl of lavender around this lovely tree. the lavender is still under there somewhere, but not really recognizable anymore. anyhow, the lavender tree clutches it's leaves longer than any other tree in the neighborhood. until inevitably, i wake up one morning in november and she's naked. naked branches tapping at the bedroom window without the rustle of leaves. it always happens overnight. this morning i looked out thinking it might be the day. but no, she's still wrapped in leaves. i'll let you know when it happens. this photo is from yesterday morning. and she will shed everyone of these leaves at once. she's quite dramatic, the lavender tree.

2011-11-15T07:17:00.003-05:00

yesterday morning we walked along with the sun and the lake. a beautiful bright and warm morning. but midway through the day, i had no choice but to succombe to whatever this sickness was leaving me aching and exhausted and light-headed. so i left the studio, fabric still sitting in the sewing machine and came home to my bed. tom had been doing laundry and vacuuming with the windows open wide. so i curled into bed with quilts and the bedroom curtain moving gently from the november breeze. i sipped perrier. i slept. the tv was a groggy background. i craved a roast that my mother always makes. there was one in the freezer, so tom put it in the oven for me before he left for work. i dragged myself downstairs for a couple of slices of roast, that i took back up to bed to eat while half watching 'hoarders'.
and now, after 18 hours of sleep and laziness, i hope today i'll get back to work and find my energy again. geese just flew over the house. crabby is drinking from edgar's water. edgar is watching her, unbothered. i will have a hot steamy bath full of healing essential oils and try to make up for yesterday's lost hours. and hopefully find something more interesting than my sickness to write about later.

2011-11-14T03:18:00.002-05:00

the wind is wild. my favorite tree that sits outside our library window, and our bedroom window above, is being shaken and torn by it's force. i am lying in the dark, covered with a knitted wool blanket, listening to the lonely sounds of a wheezing night. the windows shudder, the sound of glass and wood doing a dark shimmy. i haven't been alone in days. so in the middle of this groaning night, i am groggy and snuffly and happy to listen to the gusts of silence around me.

2011-11-12T18:15:00.007-05:00

welcome to the studio

photos you asked for....photos you shall have. the studio is all primped and prettied and ready for visitors.

napkins prettily seated on easels,

along with the festive christmas variety, ready for a holiday table.

a wall of moleskines,

and tea towels on the stairs.

cozy mittens,

and quilted sleeping bags for lucky babydolls.

double-sided cotton pillowslips, bright and fresh and beautiful.

a little tour to share the studio with you all. we are opening again tomorrow, on sunday the 13th from noon until 5.

2011-11-11T18:14:00.005-05:00

today is edgar's birthday. he's 7. and this is him being annoyed as i woke him up to give him birthday hugs. and adding insult to injury, taking a flash photo of the moment. poor boy. but i think we made up for it. first with a lovely walk at 11 o'clock with wonderful tracy. tracy set her alarm as a reminder. brilliant. i'd wanted to walk edgar at 11. but would never have known when it actually reached 11. thankfully tracy and i were together at the studio preparing for our open studio (more on that later).
we took edgar and walked along the lake and up around the stone buildings. and we marveled at the ducks. and enjoyed the crisp november air. edgar's birthday this year is 11.11.11 and my birthday last year was 10.10.10. i love stuff like that. tom tried to buy him a special birthday cake bone.....but we had to make do with a happy holidays one instead. he loves it.
so, now we are having pizza, curled on the sofa with the birthday boy, watching '(500)days of summer', trying to rest up for the weekend. we are opening the studio for the weekend. tomorrow, saturday the 12th we are open from 10 until 4. come by if you're in the area. 55 mowat avenue, in lovely portsmouth village. and then sunday from noon until 5. i just found out i'm scheduled at the book store until 2.3o on sunday, so i'm hoping trisha is free to cover the first half....otherwise....well, i'll let you know.
it's been a good day!

2011-11-10T07:23:00.006-05:00

what a rare november week this has been. soft warm sunlit days. laundry on the line. un-coated walks. edgar was bathed on the porch yesterday. and little miss crabapple returned home after her sojourn at the vet's. it's been a busy and often chaotic few days. and the moon will be full tonight, although it has appeared full all week.
crabapple just wandered into the library where i'm sitting with the laptop. she seems content and so much healthier, settled under her favorite chair, staring at edgar. steroids to soothe her inflamed bowel and anti-biotics to chase away the cocktail of bacteria. our uncle d'arcy and his wonderful care brought back our quirky odd and cranky kitty to us.
if you are a local reader, our little studio is planning to have an open studio this weekend. the local spinners and weavers are having an event in the neighborhood, so we thought we'd put our sign out as well.

2011-11-08T08:26:00.002-05:00

our walk was so lovely that i must update my groggy post from this morning to reflect the wonderful day this is. soft warm air in november. a bright new rose blooming in the bird feeder garden by the lake. foggy and dreamy. with fat squirrels in the branches and the grass. fluffier and slower than the fast bright summer squirrels. 2 groups of geese flew over, low enough that they were flying between the trees instead of above them. but still in their vee formation, loudly honking. they must have come to the lake for a while and were heading back to the lawns where they eat. (a third is flying over the house this very second). there was also a mottled white and gray dove among the pigeons. a lady with a bag of bread feeding the ducks off the bridge. neighbors calling hello to us across the harbor. a beautiful beginning......

2011-11-08T06:28:00.002-05:00

the sun will be up soon. edgar is restless this morning, ready to wander around the lake. but i'm waiting for the sun. i was happy to get the morning sun earlier this week. it found my face as i was getting ready by the mirror yesterday. a perfect little dissection, bouncing through the triangle of windows until it landed softly on my eye. it felt special enough to take photos.
the studio was busy yesterday. my parents came to clear up the gardens while i kept the sewing room humming. my father snuck up to the roof (he's almost 74 and i hate him on the roof, but thankfully he still has his surgeon's steadiness) to clean the eavestroughs and secure a loose shingle. i can't complain about the wonderful clean up they did, but i also can't really look at the yard. the abrupt change is too much for me. it's naked and bare and stripped and empty. i love the wildness that happens in my gardens, and i miss the tangle of growth that weaves all along the little white house. and now it's shorn and tidy for the winter.
crabby is still with uncle d'arcy. yesterday morning he thought we should take another day to see if we could find a way for her issues to improve. so this morning we will wrestle with the decision.
and the day is an early morning gray now, so edgar and i will soon head out.

2011-11-06T08:56:00.005-05:00

i started making quilts in 2oo4. i had always collected fabric, and i'd noticed the cotton quilting batting at the fabric store. i was drawn to it. so i bought a little packet. my aunt lent me her sewing machine, i sewed squares together for a top and sandwiched it all with a piece of fabric on the back. i had to play around with the edging, sorting out what worked and what didn't. but i had figured it out. i made a few baby quilts, but the large bed-sized ones started in october. gala, our great dane, had died in july. and after a search we'd found a puppy (edgar) and i needed to pay for him. i started making quilts all day. i had little sales from my living room. my friend and i drove around to little gift shops and b&b's selling them. and that was the start. i only have a few of the early quilts. but, i'm exceedingly hard on them.....they stay out on the porch swing all summer. in fact, there are two out there still, in november. they get washed almost daily because of edgar slobber or kitty puke. so the early ones have faded. some of my favorite fabrics were in them, fabrics from the beginnings of my fabric collection that i bought purely because i loved them, not ever thinking i'd make anything with them.....i didn't think i knew how.
last summer i was doing a little tour of suburban garage sales, scoping from the car and moving on if all i saw was baby clothes and plastic toys. i stopped at one that turned out to be disappointing, until....i started to hyper-ventilate. literally. i thought my heart was going to explode. i couldn't talk. i don't think i've felt this way since i was 14 and the cute boy i liked was walking towards me in the hall. there was one of my very first quilts. never been washed. with the original little paper tag i'd hung on them. with my original price of $175. this was one of the quilts we'd sold to a little gift/antique shop. i usually take $60 as a garage sale limit.....it was all untouched in my pocket. there wasn't a garage sale price on the quilt, just my original price, in my hand-writing. but i lost my head. i found the proprietess, offered her $60, told her it was all i had. and she accepted. and i ran to the car, shaking.
this is a photo of our bed this morning.....the old/new quilt smiling in the sun, with all my favorite old fabrics looking fresh and bright and new. i love this quilt, even though it wasn't one of my favorites then, it still gives me butterflies now when i see it. and i smile.

2011-11-05T12:18:00.005-04:00

i don't think there is a better vet in the world than ours. uncle d'arcy. he's supposed to be retired....his daughter and son-in-law took over the practice years ago. but he's still there a couple days a week and when we're lucky, he's there. we were lucky this morning.
before this morning's story comes out, i'll tell you a few earlier examples of uncle d'arcy's extraordinary kindness. my first great dane, dora was my everything. i hadn't learned the heartbreak of losing a great dane yet. i was 29 and dora and i had been together since i was 21. when i lived in paris, she was the main purpose for return visits home and finally staying home for good because i couldn't bear the distance between us. on christmas eve, i noticed she was limping. i phoned in the afternoon, but the answering service didn't get the message to the vet until later in the evening. he called immediately and asked if we could bring her in at 8.30 the next morning. christmas morning! remember, it was just a limp. we took her in and he took xrays. and he let us know she must have just slipped on the snow and ice and twisted it. that all was fine. he hugged me and wished me a merry christmas. and then 2 days later on the 27th, phoned the house to talk with my dad to tell him that there was actually a malignant tumor in the bone and he didn't want to ruin my christmas and wanted my father to break it to me. even then, when i was so shocked and sad, i was warmed by his kindness, always thinking of the animals and their humans. dora lived for another 11 months because of the wonderful care and advice he provided.
our next great dane, gala, was as dear to me as dora. she was a bit of a wild child, but her last 8 months she was unable to walk. she had a cart and we got along pretty well. except, that although she was fairly immobile, her stomach twisted. this is often fatal for large barrel chested dogs and great dane owners live in fear of it. i recognized the signs very early. again, i called late in the evening and we were told to bring her right in. the operation lasted four hours as they cleaned food from her stomach, and repaired all the damage. this time it was his son-in-law who worked through the night and then had a full clinic the next day. they let me be at her side constantly the next couple of days. and when she was somewhat stable but refusing to eat, they let me take her home with an iv. we worked for days to find something she would eat. but her kidneys and bowels weren't responding either and the fluid we were giving her through iv was not effective. so, i woke up after a week of doing all we could and knew there was really only one choice. i phoned the clinic, and uncle d'arcy was at our house an hour later (the clinic is half an hour away). he put her quietly to sleep on her own bed in the front living room window.
this morning when we walked in with little crabby, coated with diarhea and smelling disgusting, he understood immediately what we've been dealing with. and in his gentle and professional way examined her and soothed her. and offered wonderful advice. i'd been bathing her every couple days, but it upsets her terribly. and i thought last night was our last one together and wanted to just leave her be. but uncle d'arcy gave us options. she appears otherwise healthy, so he suggested we leave her with him over the weekend. he will give different treatments to see if he can improve her food absorption. and then on monday morning, we will discuss her options. he said he will be brutally honest with us monday morning. once again, approaching a difficult situation with kindness and warmth and making it much better than either tom or i expected it could possibly be.
so thanks to our wonderful uncle d'arcy, crabby may be coming home with us on monday. but if she doesn't, we know that she has had the kindest man trying everything to give her comfort.

2011-11-04T22:18:00.004-04:00

my mother gave me a christmas cactus. such a charming old-fashioned plant. it was blooming magnificently when she gave it to me. last year, or maybe the year before. and once the blooms were finished i neglected it terribly. it stayed in the living room window next to a horse skull and a jar of shells and beach glass. but now it's miraculously blooming again. all the tips are bursting into red flowers. i remember my grandmother had a christmas cactus in a planter in her living room. and she would share cuttings. remember women giving each other cuttings from their favorite plants?
tonight, crabby has been sitting on the table behind the sofa with her head in my hand. she just wanted me to hold her little face. we still aren't sure what the future holds for her, but we can't imagine that she'll be with us much longer. i think tomorrow's appointment with our wonderful vet will make our decision. so it's been a quiet little night for our family. tom playing guitar while i list items on etsy, sharing the sofa with edgar, and holding crabby's head. but in my heart, i think it's our little farewell evening.

2011-11-03T20:24:00.003-04:00

the presses!!!!

i've been given the liebster award by 2 lovely women....lisa from in my wild eden and demie at paraphernalia. i'm honored and smiling and thinking of all the lovely blogs i want to give it to in turn.

the liebster blog award is given to up-and-coming bloggers who have fewer than 200 followers.

liebster is german and means sweetest, kindest, nicest, beloved, loveliest, cutest . . .
the rules for the liebster award are:
1. thank the giver and link back to the blogger who gave it to you.
2. reveal your five personal nominations and let them know by leaving a comment on their blog.
3. copy and paste the award on your blog.
4. have faith that your followers will spread the love too!

i am passing this award on to five blogs that i look forward to reading....

tracy at beautiful day. her beautiful spirit comes through in every post. her love of life and all that makes it artful comes tumbling out of her amazing photographs and words.

angy at brown paper packages. i love the energy that comes from her posts about her day to day life. warm and fun and i always look forward to her comments on my own blog.

petra at indivisualism. not only do i love her blog name. and her given name. but i love her eye. her photographs are magnificent and she is wise and perceptive

lilli at mothwise. i've only recently found this lovely blog full of ethereal photographs and bursting with emotion and authentic sincerity.

carol at ophelia unraveling. this blog is filled with carol's gripping poetry and witty observations. i find myself going back to read and re-read these poems. and carol....well she's just plain awesome.

jen at country weekend. a wonderful woman with a lovely little shop in the catskills and a blog full of wonderful observations.

emilie's daughter. i've just recently discovered this great little spot full of recipes, design ideas, photographs. i had to add it.

yep, i chose a couple of extra people. i never can quite follow directions. thanks again....enjoy these wonderful blogs!

2011-11-02T21:21:00.005-04:00

i used to have a little flood of joy every time i turned on the tap. the water gurgled out like it was falling from an old kitchen hand-pump. it tumbled and rolled out of the spigot. and it was a soft little movement that caught me emotionally every time. one of the simple little things that would make my day. everyday.
i knew johnny was coming over to change the kitchen tap with tom that night. and i knew that changing it was truly necessary. i was at the bookstore. and suddenly i wondered if changing the tap would change my beautiful tendril of a waterfall from the old spigot.
i went straight to the kitchen when i got home. tom was proud of their work. for it was a major job, taking out cast iron pipes, working from the old cistern under the kitchen, along the limestone walls to bring in new pipes. and when i turned on the tap, the water rushed out in a pressurized chute. tom knew before he saw the disappointment in my eyes. he'd tried to find a way to make it tumble. but it wouldn't. so i'll try to always remember the way it used to be.

2011-11-02T06:04:00.002-04:00

we had a busy weekend. i had more things on my schedule than i usually commit to. and by 7 pm sunday night, tom found edgar, stella and me fast asleep in this little grouping. he said we were like this for more than an hour. i love naps.

2011-11-01T07:02:00.003-04:00

i'm waking up tired this morning. november is here and i'm anxious to get to the studio. get my hands into the fabrics. at this time of year, it's easy to have blinders to anything but the sewing. there is so much to make and the energy builds upon itself, ideas streaming from ideas. i've been making only quilts for the past month or more. and each one sneaks up on me. the beauty new and fresh every time. while i'm sewing, little things might bother me. but i keep going. sometimes i can think that the one i'm working with has too many imperfections...that i'll have to keep it for myself. but as i continue to build it and layer it and quilt it and edge it, the quilt has been born. and all the little quirks become it's beauty, giving it the warm breath of a fresh new creature. each one smiling at me and winning my heart.
i'll get edgar out for a quick tour along the lake before i head over. the ducks and geese will greet us. our enclave is such a lovely friendly little spot, that our migratory birds have changed their patterns, and they winter here with us. we feed them bread and corn, and they stay with us all year round.

2011-10-31T00:14:00.003-04:00

when i was 4 years old my mother would sit with me at the kitchen table with a little red diary. the kind with a lock on the side. it was called a five year diary. each dated page was divided into 5 sections....a few lines for each year. she would disregard that aspect and fill the entire page in one sitting. it was my diary, she was just the scribe. she asked me to tell her about things i loved and how i felt. (the majority of the time i would say 'i feel like not sitting here doing this' and she would write that). she transcribed my childish pronunciation and funny words. she recorded what i said, word for word. she persevered. and preserved. and now, over 40 years later, the love of having my own notebook of thoughts and ideas and sketches is still very much alive. my mother's most profound gift to me, i believe.

2011-10-29T22:19:00.006-04:00

the dreamy wonder of discovery. childhood and it's incomparable joy and light. but how is it that human nature dictates that our few short years of wonderment feel endless and tedious. i remember that feeling. as children we crave independence and strive to be bigger and have more fun. we want what is available to those who are just a little bit older. our quest is growth and strength. and yet we sit in those moments completely. loving the singularity of what we see. of how we play. of words and colors and movement and song. until we notice what the big kids have. and then we want that. and yet, paradoxically, we can barely fathom the concept of changing into that other wiser, more mature creature. of not being who we are in that moment, in that stage.
we move so quickly through a decade now. we collect them. but that first brief decade held the sweetest days that stretched forever. that we clutch to and allow to settle into us if we have that particular fortune. and yet those are the years that disappeared the most completely.

2011-10-28T22:48:00.003-04:00

my books. they are a cradle for me. walls of them. towers of them. curving around my life. smiling at me. soothing me and motivating me. like a multi-dimensional ghost mother, holding my hand forever. my bookshelves hold almost everything i love. jewelry and cameras and shells and photos and all the little stories that only i recognize. all tucked in with the books.

2011-10-28T07:46:00.003-04:00

i have just watched the sun scale the sky from moonless black, to gray, to streaks of pink and orange, to day. and there is frost on the rooftops. our first in six months or more. maybe that was why i couldn't sleep....feeling winter close in around me in an overnight fury. when edgar heard me tiptoe my way downstairs in the dark and curl in my favorite corner of the library, he unfolded his long legs from the couch in the living room to join me. i covered him with a quilt and he lifted his heavy warm head to my hand. he loves me to hold his head. i wrap my fingers behind his ear and feel his breath on my forearm. despite a few sleepless hours, it was pleasant nevertheless.
and now the day has begun. there is no leftover night in the sky. and the kettle is on the boil for tea and oatmeal.

2011-10-27T00:06:00.000-04:00

this morning as i took a few seconds to blot on base and a quick brush of mascara, i saw my face in the mirror. and i realized in that moment that last night i dreamt my forehead was etched with deep creviced lines. heavily carved wrinkles. and this morning when i saw my face i was surprised at their absence, for i guess the shadow of the dream was still controlling my semi or sub conscious. my worries about crabby, my list of tasks and this sore throat that is sapping my energy, crept into my sleeping mind and created a physical representation of my worries. and now my fresh day gives a new perspective and smooths the lines.

2011-10-26T22:45:00.004-04:00

edgar and stella are curled on the sofa, asleep and lightly snoring. happy and content. but my thoughts are troubled with questions about how to handle crabby's aging difficulties. last year about this time i posted crabby's story. and now we are beginning to seriously wonder and worry about her quality of life. i have never made a decision to put a pet 'out of it's misery' in this fashion. and i don't know that i will get there in this case either. but her struggles are becoming more evident. and harder for us to live with as well. we think she is deaf. and although we feed her premium cat food, we can't contain her foraging and garbage eating ways. her diahrea is becoming a real concern and problem now that the weather is growing colder and she's inside most of the time. the powders from the vet don't seem to be helping. i bathed her today. but her confused shrieks were so loud i couldn't finish. tomorrow i'll try again to get her clean and fresh, and maybe it will bring her contentment. oh crabby.....

2011-10-26T08:42:00.002-04:00

i am sipping coffee and eating oatmeal. the day is gray and overcast. i just saw neighbors in bright jackets stroll past the window. i'm making my way to the studio but i'm spending a few quiet moments with edgar and elsworth before i head over. contemplating the pile of work i have to do and the lack of energy to do it with. wondering why i'm writing here about nothing, but appreciating the composure the act of writing gives me. it straightens everything from the inside out. it files and organizes and gives peace to the process.

2011-10-25T09:18:00.004-04:00

i went to bed last night with a fever and a sore throat. i am slow this morning and hope that by this afternoon i'm feeling well enough to spend the evening selling books as i'm scheduled to do. i'm drinking tea instead of coffee. and soon i'll have some orange juice.
ironing strips of fabric shouldn't be too much effort for me today. the iron is now almost permanently set up in the living room. angled so i can watch tv with tom. the heavy wooden ironing board that tom's mother gave me. it was her grandmother's. tom found it at the cottage this summer and i fell in love with it's heavy wooden top and steady, unswerving legs. so now it sits in the living room with an old faded quilt on top. and i iron fabric in the evenings.
and sweet edgar keeps my world cozy and warm. he settled in with me last night while tom was at work. we snuggled by the fire and i pored over jermalism's fascinating photos of abandoned buildings. a cozy warm night, even if i was sick.

2011-10-23T23:28:00.004-04:00

we live in the shadow of an abandoned lunatic asylum. it sits looking out over the waves of lake ontario. and i'm obsessed with it. i take endless photos. edgar and i circle around the tall limestone edifice every day. there is a cluster of buildings. the largest is 7 or 8 stories high. huge curving windows and the scent of sadness about it. and i dream of walking through it with my camera, the empty and abandoned hallways, the curving windows and high ceilinged rooms. rockwood asylum. today i spent hours reading all i could find. old photos and lists of the people who were kept there 150 years ago. i'll fall asleep with the names echoing through my mind. the architecture so strong and beautiful while the reality of it's purpose, so helpless and sad.

2011-10-23T10:12:00.003-04:00

my coffee this morning is un cafe noisette. like my paris days. just a drop of milk, to soften the first hit of caffeine. just a drop for this pleasant gray day. the weekend has been smooth and full. our little village within the city is getting closer and closer to perfection. we now have the most lovely little market of local produce, eggs, milk, meats, sauces, baked goods. hatter's bay country market. all local and fresh. a pleasure to walk in and take home dinner daily. again like my paris days. buying what i need each day instead of huge grocery shopping trips with much of the food spoiling before i find a chance to prepare it. the walls are limestone with warm wood floors. fresh coffee and cookies while you shop. i found it had opened yesterday (i've been watching for the open sign to emerge) and brought home a basket of potatoes with a pork loin steak for tom that fed him dinner and still has a couple of meals worth of leftovers for him. (i won't eat the meat selections, but i love being able to grab it for tom since he can't seem to enjoy a meal without meat).
so today i'll iron fabric for quilts next week. while we watch football. maybe a movie. maybe a pizza. sundays are good.

2011-10-21T19:41:00.003-04:00

even though we are late in october, my dear little white studio is covered with morning glory. blue and pink and purple. they braid themselves around the front door awning, smiling in through the windows and welcoming customers and friends. and twine amongst the bushes and fence. they wrap around the trunk of the apple tree and their flowers burst out among the apples. and maybe it is all part of the magic that the studio is generating lately. i have found two wonderful women to share the space with me. we are humming and happy in the little white house. quilts and dolls and felting and collage and encaustic painting and rug making. bags of wool, fresh from the sheep, with the faint smell of the farm lurking in the softness. rolls of fabric. paper and books and canvas. beeswax and pigments. there is a powerful energy. and a lovely idea exchange is cranking along. our own little happiness factory.

2011-10-19T19:26:00.003-04:00

the boats are beginning to leave the water. the harbour changes it's face for the seasons. each weather variation creating a mask of activity or lack thereof. we are heading into the still season. the deep bellies exposed as they balance motionless next to the water that eventually turns to ice. the masts removed and flattened like felled trees. i love to weave among these neighborhood giants. i look out and see the expanse of water meet the sky, a great spread of blue. and i wonder if the peace that settles so easily in my being is partially due to the halcyon vista of endless blue that i'm treated to each morning.

2011-10-19T00:57:00.003-04:00

the insignificant moments. the simplicity of noticing something regular, something usual and feeling it make a smile spread through my insides. the fleeting and meaningless moments that bring unruly happiness. the ladder against the studio as i'm kicking my way through the leaves and the smoldering smoky air to start sewing this morning. the cold wintry feel to the house tonight as i write at 1 am., knowing that when i go up the stairs, my bed will be warm and crowded with love. the moments that you don't recognize if you're trying, because they are too regular to notice. i'll end my day embracing the ordinary.

2011-10-18T14:33:00.004-04:00

it was only slight tweaking that the farmhouse quilts needed. and yesterday i realized what it was....i needed to double the quilting lines. it puckers more. it drapes better. it makes all the uneven little patches even more charming. and it means more hands on time with the quilt....more time to infuse it with happiness and love and warmth. i don't want to stop sewing, but i promised you photos, and here they are.

2011-10-18T08:43:00.003-04:00

it's a gloomy morning. heavy gray clouds are low on the lake. we stumbled along, edgar and i. layers of sweaters making me bulky, although it's not at all cold. the sweaters were for comfort, i guess, rather than warmth. but my favorite part of our wander, was coming in our gate. our yard was pungent and incense-y. last night i sort of started a fire. one of the super dry logs my father brought in the summer for the outdoor fireplace, a pizza box and a newspaper. i didn't have time to nurse it so i threw them all together with a few matches and hoped for a little glow of a fire. it didn't ever really catch, but apparently it smoldered away all night, as my fires often do. and this morning our yard is like a perfectly baked pie filling the day with it's warm and smoky fall-like flavors.

2011-10-17T23:05:00.004-04:00

today was a turning point. i have been developing my quilts for 7 or 8 years. beginning with flannel baby quilts. and gradually adding larger sizes and eliminating flannel. finding a name and a brand for my little workshop. creating an etsy shop. building a fulltime studio and a little shop. selling wholesale. but this afternoon i felt like the quilt i took from the dryer was the culmination of what i've been working towards all these years. i don't have a photo. but the little scrappy squares with the 1 inch tunnel quilting, puckering to perfection and draping with the perfect weight and softness. my insides were boiling with happiness and excitement and a dash of pride.
i'll show you photos tomorrow.

2011-10-16T19:43:00.005-04:00

it's sunday night with a cold wet rain falling. it's the night we put our garbage out. i can hear the scrape of the neighbor's plastic bins along the street. tom and i remind each other that it needs to be done. but neither of us wants to do the job. it's been a windy day, with bright sun and periodically the wind blew in rain. i hung white towels and linens on the line and they came in smelling of winter. and, although it's hard for me to admit openly, the scents of winter in my laundry are my favorite. they are fresh and distinct. i wrapped in my still damp towel after my late afternoon bath and kept my face in it, filling up with it's scent.there was football on tv while i ironed strips of fabric for quilts. and a fire in the fireplace. and we just returned from a neighborly gathering across the street. a potluck to which we contributed nothing but a bottle of wine. homemade perogies, baked beans, slow cooked bison, roasted root vegetables, apple/rhubarb crisp and apple cranberry cake. the children played upstairs in the loft under the eaves. some of us collected around the table, while others found softer seats. and we talked about our weekends and the upcoming week. recent happenings in the neighborhood. new phones. work.
a lovely day.

2011-10-15T20:22:00.006-04:00

my cousin's daughter, laura, has always held a special place in my heart. her bright eyes and quick smile. her love of family. her love of animals. she is easy to be with and easy to love. she always made an effort to be at family gatherings even when i'm sure she had more interesting things to be doing. and today was her wedding day. i made her a quilt. and we drove a couple of hours to a lovely country club outside of toronto. it was a rainy gray day, and the wedding was perfectly lovely, in a glassed in terrace overlooking the greens and the bright autumn colors. i had been looking forward all week to seeing all my uncles and aunts and cousins. and beautiful laura and her new husband. everyone dressed up and happy and celebratory. but during the standing and sitting of the ceremony, i became aware that it felt like i may have stained the back of my skirt.....the kind of stain you can't hide or explain away. the most embarrassing sort of bright red stain. i whispered my fears to tom and stepped in front of him as we were walking out. he nodded, signalling that i had indeed stained my skirt. there was nothing to really do but hug the bride and head home. i didn't have a change of clothes and dancing the night away with a red stain on my bottom didn't sound too inviting. so, with a sweater tied around my waist, i hugged my dear uncles and aunts and my parents and laura and her new husband dan, and we slipped away in the rain leaving my mother to give any explanation she was comfortable giving.

what would you have done? and what have you done in those moments when your womanhood was displayed to the world???

2011-10-13T22:37:00.007-04:00

i was a painter for as long as i could be. it was about 20 years that i twisted my time and my eye and my mind into paint. it still calls me. i breath a little faster when i smell the paint. and the ideas have never stopped. there are painters who i binge on, a handful who's every line i recognize. francesco clemente is one who has drawn me into his cavity. the beautiful hollow opening to his vision. my first extended stay in europe was the summer of 1987. 3 voluptuous months. and several weeks were devoted to chasing art across western europe. museums everyday. the basel art fair. cathedrals. architecture. ruins. and one group of images stays etched in my memory. it was a retrospective of sorts. drawings by one brilliant hand. there were darkened rooms with tiny sketchbooks. drawings from childhood. drawings from school. and drawings from the professional adult. pages and pages. smudged conte. pencil. watercolor. words scrawled with the lines. and i watched the drawings that were recognizable even in the childish form, grow into the man. i will say again, i have seen alot of art. i've sought out painting eagerly, and this little accidental clemente exhibition has been an influence on me that i am still discovering.

i borrowed these images from francescoclemente.net and my blogger format appears to have cropped them. click on the images to see the proper form and cruise through his site if you're interested in seeing more.

2011-10-11T22:52:00.004-04:00

our bedroom is it's own little sustainable universe. there is, of course, the bed. and the piles of books beside the bed. the tv. my bathtub. and the spool sofa under the morning window where the east sun pours in. someday there might be a little gas stove in the corner, but until then, our bedroom is perfect the way it is. our days are dissected. the daylight and a few hours of dark are spent on the main ground floor of the house. while the nighttime hours combined with the earliest gray hours of morning are spent suspended with the trees. a blade dividing our time and our home. tom sleeps earlier than me. his breath gurgles just slightly, restful music across the room. and i am propped on pillows on the spool sofa, under a quilt punching words into my laptop, writing my blog, listing quilts on etsy, facebooking, emailing....quietly having little adventures, but in an odd way, still spending time together. i like this. i like knowing we are sharing a room but doing what we both need to be doing.

2011-10-10T22:29:00.005-04:00

temperatures in the mid 20s. a hot and dreamy day.(the crickets are singing like august now as i'm writing) we drove along the lake to the orchard that tom remembers going as a child. there were orchards all along the road, with pickers in the trees. ladders against trees. hot sun with a breeze off the lake. all under the october blue sky and the october golden tilt of the sun. it was idyllic. we wandered along curving field roads. in among the orchards. we found a horse barn with the loveliest gentle faces, licking my hands even though i didn't offer them any apples. pushing their big, edgar-like heads into my hands. we found a little building where they were boiling cider doughnuts. sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. they gave us fresh ones, still steaming hot. and we bought a dozen when we chose our apples. our apples...we bought russet, northern spy and honey crisp. my favorites are the russet, little thick-skinned browny green rock like spheres, with crisp sweet white flesh. my father remembers them as a boy on prince edward island. they look like the apples a farm boy would pick. like they might not even be apples.
we made it home with our bags of apples. my aunt and my mother sat in the sun peeling them, while i juiced limes and squished together butter and brown sugar and cinnamon. and we threw together 5 of the most delicious apple crisp. we ordered chinese for dinner and deserted on apple crisp, forgetting the birthday cake. so then we had to have some cake as well. and it was a most wonderful day.
the photos of the day are lovely and you can see my favorites here on foblographie.

2011-10-09T22:56:00.004-04:00

it was a magnificent day, 24 degrees. sunny. fog lifting off the lake. we gave edgar a bath and i walked him in the sun to dry. tom cut the lawn. and i took the stepladder into the front garden and washed the windows. and while i was working on the windows of my little front porch, i realized how i missed sitting in here in the early morning sun with coffee. or with the evening sun and a glass of wine. and a book or my blog. a few years ago it stopped being a room and just become a place to walk through to get in the house. with messy recycling by the door and cobwebs and garden dirt. so, i swept and washed and threw away the wicker chairs with the seats broken through (i didn't really throw them away, but they went to the basement) and brought in my favorite white metal chairs. i washed the glass. and swept and washed the floor. i found places for what shouldn't be in the front porch/sun room. and set up a little table to hold a drink. jars and buckets of beach glass and shells. faded lavender hanging in the window. garage sale paintings i love stacked against the wall. a few piles of books..... just in time for my birthday tomorrow. i will have my first coffee as a 45 year old, sitting in my lovely little sunny nook.

2011-10-08T20:37:00.008-04:00

i have a complicated and unusual relationship with the things i have around me. i like to feel their organic shift and rhythm. if something is stained or torn or chipped, i certainly don't stop loving it. i often love it more. and i am comfortable with a way of life that is odd for many. i'm drawn to the look of abandoned houses. and my personal aesthetic has much of that worn quality in it. i love my garden overgrown and wild. i love the chipped paint on my front door. i love the vines growing along the walls of our house. i love our bare floors. our old original wood framed windows with the 150 year old wavy bubbly glass. we have a rusty mailbox i found at an architecture salvage place. i love the original paint and it's creaky, rusty hinge. i love things as old as they can be. our doorbell is an old boxing ring bell that echoes through the neighborhood whenever anyone yanks the chain.
and tom loves and accepts all these odd little quirks of mine. dusty books and chips of paint. photographs of strangers. rusty metal and stone. i'm lucky his suburban soul is drawn to my undefinable soul.

2011-10-07T22:50:00.005-04:00

there are so many stories settled deep in all of us. little tales of triumph and joy and sorrow. wistful reminiscences. stories we glean from the entire tome of our life and consider memorable. stories we sift through, sometimes finding the right person to share with. sometimes sharing with anyone. they are layered and foggy, changing imperceptibly with every telling so that the reality of what actually took place, no longer is. stories of childhood, of love, of place, of people. they are born when memory is put to words, they come alive in the telling. i planned to tell a story here tonight. but i began to think of storytelling and ended up with this instead. a version of a story, but not the narrative i'd planned. but slowly i believe the little rambling sketches will begin to slip into this conversation.

2011-10-05T21:49:00.004-04:00

i have flashes of memory. while i'm sewing. while i'm driving. while i'm walking edgar. while i'm falling asleep at night. quick flashes of a person. or a house i have loved. a kitchen. or a street, a street in paris. of a wall, a painting. many different cities and the energy and vitality they are engorged with. a sound. a face. a song. a smell. a conversation, or just a piece of it. a car, a journey. and so often there are faces with smiles. or just people going about their business without noticing me. there are restaurants. classrooms. shoes i loved and how i felt with them on my feet. studios i've filled with my work. and when these memories arrive, they overflow in me. and i realized the other day that this wash of memory, when it happens to my parents, brings about an era so very far from our current reality but still a very real part of theirs. or when it happened to my grandparents, they would be taken to a time before cars. before electricity or plumbing. when photographs were precious. and meals were made, not purchased. when there was no radio, no television. my grandfather died 4 1/2 years ago when he was 105. and he lived in his memory most of the time in his last years. it is a powerful gift, our little visions of the past. tiny pieces of our lives.

2011-10-04T08:16:00.005-04:00

oceans of patchwork. my hands are always in it. my clothes covered in thread. the fabrics smile at me and we work together. step by step. methodically but with excitement. i recognize patterns and i'm drawn to certain colors.
i long to see the squares pucker and fade and soften. but that takes time. years. so i move on, sewing until it's thick and soft and will cover a bed. until it will smooth over a sleeping child. until it will form around a young girl's dreams. or wrap tightly around a couples love. or keep company with a single sleeper. rise and fall and grow warm. smell like warm sleepy breath. the colors blending and fading with the years. making friends and simply tolerating others. there is life in the quilts. there is a pulse. it's what keeps me at it day after day after day.

2011-10-03T06:52:00.002-04:00

i love to see through windows. divided and protected by layers of reflection. a narrow perspective that gives only limited access. softening the truth, distilling it to a story. unpeeling and segmented. a story framed. overlapping aperture interrupted with diaphanous smoky images. the mundane with added value. this is my kitchen. the back window that sits over the sink and looks into the yard. the light is melted and golden. the dirty dishes and pile of compost by the door has disappeared. the trees are reflected in the glass and the painting by the fridge is a dark hollow space. windows and baskets and the busy-ness of an evening meal, it's there but it's ready for you to make it your own.