Category Archives: In the Company of Cloth

notes from a quilter, collage artist, fabric collector

Walked around the lake

We walked around the lake. Saw lots of neighbors, none of whom we know.

Cut through Weeks Field for some fetch.

Earlier, I emptied flower pots, picking out the terra cotta chips and stones, unthreading roots. Yesterday I filled two barrels with oak leaves and catalpa pods.

A spring impulse: to get rid of shit. My list is long. I plan to mostly use a neighbor free site on Facebook.

My insta posts automatically posted to Facebook this week. I have no idea why.

And, where is Grace?

Framing, flaming, and a cold

I picked six and took them to the framers. Major sticker shock. That was yesterday.

Earlier in the week, I reserved two seats for the rally in Waco tonight. As Doug Jones of Alabama said, “Trump is the master of dog whistles, whether it is his rhetoric or photo ops. Waco is a wonderful city, but for the far-right fringe that Trump caters to, an appearance by Trump can be a call to arms. Not action—arms.”

(From Joyce Vance’s Civil Discourse newsletter).

That’s the extent of my political activism of late.

I have had a cold! The first in perhaps seven years. I should count myself lucky but it’s been a miserable couple of days.

Slushy Saturday

The first of five March birthday preparations are underway. The WALNUT COFFEE LAYER CAKE is freshly iced. (Nigella Lawson recipe from NYTimes cooking app). Stock for soup made and strained. Mushrooms for tarts, sautéed.

Also on the menu: sesame seed encrusted salmon a la Jamie Oliver (his One Pan Wonders on BritBox is my new favorite cooking show), wilted cukes, and green beans. Gonna roll out some puff pastry and fill little triangles with those mushrooms and goat cheese as a starter.

Roasted some pumpkin seeds in a chili spice mix that I just made up. Learned this from Deb and will be eternally grateful. These will top a Ginger Butternut Squash Soup.

It rained and sleeted throughout the night and now it’s snowing. A slightly inconsequential effect of the climate crisis : weather reporters consistently getting it wrong. First, it was thirteen to fourteen inches of snow, then three to six. I’ll be surprised if we get two.

I would like to learn how to make and edit videos for this platform. Any suggestions? I do all my blogging on my iPhone X.

Just filmed myself turning the pages of my most recent collage notebook and it was an epic fail. A four minute mess. And BTW, watching a crafter awkwardly turn the pages of a cloth book (no matter how gorgeous) is the worst. Don’t want to fall in that camp.

Feb 23 review in haiku

Missed February first, but otherwise, here’s a month of haiku.

I spatchcocked a bird.
Found the spine and cut it out.
Then broke the breastbone.

Irish wool and fleece:
a two-sided coat stitched up
for the dog. Cold snap.

A violent pop
Shards held in place by the screen.
Ten below zero.

February air
skims the lake. A delicate
sparkle where ice-free.

2/5 – bonus
He says, “I’ll fix it
come spring.” Long-married answer:
“Oh? Spring of what year?”

Feb six, Monday, and
I do not wish to begin
this week. Will coffee help?

Gasp at the rubble.
Unquantifiable loss.
Somehow, we keep count.

Heat wooshes through vents
making cactus branch waggle.
Dog licks his paws. Home.

Grey sky. Rain speckles
the windshield as we head west.
Snow in the Berkshires?

Mountain to Glory.
Burgner’s Farm is gone. Pines Mom
planted tower tall.

She knows everyone.
Front desk, servers, her neighbors.
We’re just passing through.

One child picks New York.
The other picks Chicago.
News from Rieko.

“Maybe we’ve had six
inches of snow this season
total?” Overheard.

Taupe branches lift up
a pewter sky. But sunrise
burnishes bark gold.

Another tear down.
So begins the shrill beeping!
Next: jack hammer hell.

Children at the school
scream and holler in delight.
Sixty-one degrees.

“Will you rub my feet?”
Asking makes the dog go wild.
As if he’s denied!

Walking the dog loop,
I plan a salad for lunch:
beets, goat cheese, walnuts.

Campus is empty
but the swans can be found, one
so still, death waiting.

He arrived by train
wearing a gold and blue tie.
Zelenskyy teared up.

Pages from three years
ago. Ritual remembrance
or was it not me?

A leaden sky criss-
crossed by wires, poked by air vents.
I think: how lovely!

No school. No plows. White
streets with slush below. Curbs
in hiding. Take care!

Wind scatters ice chips.
They land on our heads like hail.
But it’s not. Sun’s out.

A light dusting fell
Cambridge street gone fairy white.
Twelve women, two cakes.

Where are the two mutts
who live at Bartlett corner?
Too cold to romp free.

Sleuth, poppycock, glare,
smudge, redress, cacophony.
Some words that I like.

He parks at the T
wearing hat, coat, gloves, flip flops.
A sign of something.



Crescents for interest

Even though made of a patterned silk, I decided that the yellow roof was too plain.

I like it better now.

Before. With a different moon as well

Finn says hello and it’s raining. No snowing. No raining.

A few short term goals: delete a few thousand photos from my phone; mend a frayed cuff on one of my favorite zip-up sweatshirts; tend to some correspondence; get a decent hair cut (I might go short again).

What are some of your short term goals?