Tag Archives: heart


high tide

high tide

A friend has graciously lent us her beach house, even knowing that Jack is ill. It turns out that there is a linoleum-floored room that he can sleep in, and it is right next to the guest room. It should not go without saying that my friend is supremely generous, and flexible, to a fault.

evening fog rolling in

There are glorious views of the marsh out of the western windows of the house. Glorious. I can see why some artists spend a lifetime painting scenes such as this one. A pattering rain falls, now, just as we were planning to grab the paddles and canoe out to the end of the spit — with Jack.  We are doing everything with Jack.

in the weeds

Oh well.  As is often the case while at the shore, the excuse to stay inside and read is welcome.

indigo heart lands on patchwork

resting comfortably

happy traveler

weaving lets me expose a little of the underlying fabrics

It is hard to fully relax knowing what is going on for Jack. On a positive note, though, he continues to have a hearty appetite and to rest easily, with less panting than before we got here. With the boys on the West Coast and the mess of my own home elsewhere, it has been seamless to make Jack our Number One concern…  he and I are sitting together pretty much constantly.

and this is where I am, right now – you can’t see Jack at my feet

And this is where I add that our house sitter has two German shepherds, each of which ON THEIR OWN, significantly outweighs me.  I hope they are not digging up the astilbes like last time.

Hearts Full and Close

Naming today’s jpg files for purposes of posting them here, I used the words “close” and “full” to indicate cropping.  These files — “Heart Close” (above) and “Heart Full” (below) — put me to wonder, What is it to have another’s Heart Close?  Or even, one’s own Heart Close?  And, what is it to have a Full Heart?

Here is the “Heart Full” — although in this case, it is not quite the entire quilt.   In this Heart Series of quilts, all of which feature a single heart perched on top of a busy mosaic, I have always been working with the notion that the fullness of our experiences add up to a kind of perfection.  And that this perfection normally eludes us, but in fact, is always there.  As a designer, it is easy to know that the dark-hued swatches of fabric are as responsible for the overall design (and dare I say, beauty?), as the lighter patches… As a human being, it is less easy to know that those experiences which wounded us the most, are just as responsible for the overall design (and dare I say, perfection?) of our lives as the sunnier experiences.

As David Whyte  states in his poem “The Faces at Braga”, “If only we knew/as the carver knew, how the flaws/in the wood led his searching chisel to the very core,/we would smile too/and not need faces immobilized/by fear and the weight of things undone.”  (From “Where Many Rivers Meet”).

This smaller quilt includes the word “Darkness”

and, in the lower right corner, “SONG”.  These are not contradictions.

How does one become, again to quote David Whyte’s poem, “wedded to our essence”?

such that the details transpiring in our tiny houses, do not impede the fullness of our hearts?