Persevering through February

The nice thing about writing a blog is that I can re read it myself, even if no one else does! I can revisit previous years and remind myself of past scenes and insights, so often still relevant. This February seems to have been very gloomy, our weather, and local and world wide events as well as my mood. Looking back over previous years I realise that February can often feel that way for me.

This time last year I was exploring Wendel Berry’s poem which starts “When despair for the world grows in me…” even though at that point we did not know what lay ahead, (probably just as well!) But reading it again today reminds me of his answer to “come into the peace of wild things”. Some of our daily walks recently have been wet, muddy and slippery, but we have encountered some wonderful natural beauty in spite of the gloom, and felt some of the freedom Wendell Berry writes about.

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

During the grey days I have also been glad of my continuing participation in an online Stitch Club. The most recent workshop by Jude Kingshott included a stitched fabric book made from scraps and recycled cotton lawn. I found hand stitching on very thin almost translucent fabric quite a challenge. It felt so insubstantial and unstable. Flimsy was the word. It felt like my hopes for the immediate months ahead, unpredictable and uncertain. But stitch by stitch I plodded on and I have now finished a little booklet of bright cheerful flowers, albeit flimsy.

The cover…

And pages…

“Perseverance” is the name of the space craft which has finally reached Mars this week. I have not achieved anything quite so remarkable, but it is a familiar theme. Even my art journaling echoed it.

Perseverance seems the order of the moment, so let’s keep keeping on, stitch by stitch, step by step, flower by flower, and we will get through the February mud and gloom to more solid ground and clearer skies.

January Journal 2021 – first pages

First six sketches and doodles in my mini journal. My attempts to express moments, objects or observations from each day.

Mange tout?

One of my early childhood memories is of picking peas with my grandfather in his vegetable garden. Sweet peas too for the house. I can remember sitting podding the peas, and surreptitiously eating lots of the sweet green jewels which plopped into the bowl.

This week we have been picking peas in our own vegetable garden. These are tiny sweet petit pois. They produce a greater volume of pods than peas. But are still worth it for the flavor.

Other peas we have been picking his week are ‘mange tout’ and can be eaten pods and all. Whether they are the flat mange tout or the fatter sugar snap, there is much less waste, with no pods to throw away.

And it’s not just veg we’ve been picking and eating. More treats are starting to appear. Not much wasted here, although cherry stones are definitely not edible!

But no garden waste is wasted. The food wrappings in the garden are either mange tout or biodegradable. Unlike the food packaging from our recent supermarket click and collect. Although we specify “no bags” on the order there are always a few, and so many of the groceries are still packed in plastics or other materials. Although we have good recycling collection provision where we live, it is still so sad to see the amount of plastic waste.

This week the challenge from a textile art stitch club I belong to was to stitch a design using cut up plastic waste. Rummaging through some of my accumulated plastic wrappings I found a variety of colours and stitched this design.

As I stitched with the plastic I became freshly aware of the the amazing efficiency of nature in reusing every scrap of organic matter. It is a system where everything depends on its ability to decompose and there is no use for permanence and indestructibility. The waste pea pods are on the compost now, ready for the process which will see them feed the soil for new generations of life and growth. The destructive failure of plastics lies in their arrogant inability to decay and die.

My stitching is at least an attempt to find a creative way to help recycle stubborn inorganic waste. But nature’s impermanent beauty is far more beautiful, and wonderfully nourishing, whether we can eat it or not.

A posy picked from the allotment. Not “mange tout“ but a feast for the eyes and totally biodegradable.

Stories with and without words

A week of contrasts in the media. The aftermath of last weekend here in Dorset was one of horror, and disgust at the chaos caused by tens of thousands of day trippers who crowded in to local beauty spots. The folly of a few caused life threatening injuries to themselves, and in addition put their rescuers lives at risk too. And then there was continuing distress in the days that followed as the clear up operation revealed the foul deposits and overwhelming volume of rubbish left by those who appear to take no thought for the consequences of their actions.

Then more events which have unfolded in the media before our eyes in America have continued the theme of horror, disbelief and repulsion. The brutal destructive actions of some, as others stand by and watch, has convicted us all of our complicity in this injustice and irresponsibility. Now there is a rising international outcry at patterns which we know are deeply entrenched in our culture, hearts and minds.

In the face of horrible media news I find it hard to know what my response should/could be. This week I have been following a pattern of writing Earthellos each day, using an acrostic form HELLO. Discover more here.

The first step is to check in on myself starting with Here I am…. I have been aware of emotions or anger, disgust and fear, all contributing to an agitation and tension.

The second line starts with Earth you are… This stages invites me to observe and become aware of the earth, the environment around me. It changes my perspective completely as I find myself looking outwards. I have been surprised at what I see through my own window which helps me become aware of the continuing beauty of the earth inspite of the losses of setbacks and destruction. And TV has helped too. BBC Springwatch this last week has provided wonderful glimpses into environments I cannot access from my own doorstep. Try watching some of the 90 second “Mindful Moments” videos for a different take on the world. They require no explanation or commentary.

In our garden we have suffered the ups and downs of losing a beautiful clematis to “wilt“ and reddening cherries to “June drop”. Roses and peonies bloom and then lose their petals, but the seed heads remaining are interesting in themselves when I take time to look. Recently for an online textile arts group I made some little seed containers to hold some the seedcases that litter the ground in our garden. They remind me of the continuing story that seedcases tell in themselves.

Seed containers for pine cones, clematis head, beechnuts, a peony seed head and a rose after its petals have dropped.

Once again I am brought back to the awareness of the inadequacy of words to tell the whole story. Sometimes it’s better just to stop, look, observe and say nothing. But even so I’ll offer you my Earthello for today.

Un-easing the lockdown

This last week has been a strange mixture. Firstly on the weather front. The days here have been warm and sunny, I have drunk my breakfast coffee in the summerhouse most mornings. The nights on the other hand have been very cold. Low temperatures were forecast on a couple of nights and we decided not to plant out beans and sweet corn on the allotment as both are vulnerable to frost. But other plants like courgettes and squash were already planted out, so we had to make special trips to cover them under cloches and fleece. Tougher plants like the potatoes got nipped by the frost, their leaves were blackened in places but they weren’t seriously affected. The broad beans just carried on regardless and are producing their first small beans.

Now the danger of frost seems to have passed and we are planting out our tender beans and corn. But they are still under threat! This time from rabbits. Our sunflowers were gone within a few hours planting. All the allotment holders are losing plants, eaten as soon as they are put in the ground. So our bean wigwams are now wrapped in protective fleece to try and prevent rabbit ravaging. At home the cherries are swelling on the trees, but we have been swathing them in netting to protect them from the birds. It feels like as soon as the weather is safe, we’re constantly on the look out for new dangers.

The parallels are obvious I guess! This week has also seen the the “easing of the lockdown” against Coronavirus in England. Another strange mixture…

Easing is a word which to me suggests rest, relax, the dangers are passed. But on the contrary the message is “Stay Alert”.
Hardly reassuring…
And then the conflict and confusion when we aren’t sure what we can or should do, and the strong feelings which arise when we disagree! (Families and politicians)
Hardly easy…

How best to protect ourselves against the virus will not be easy to work out. It all depends… on our age, state of health, and our vulnerability of all sorts. And, like gardeners, some of us hold back and are cautious, some take risks and don’t worry too much about set backs. I have had to learn that gardening is not an exact science, often frustrating in its unpredictability and uncertainty . I feel equally uneasy about the ambiguities and unknowns around the lifting of some lockdown restrictions.

But meanwhile I have been experimenting with some protective measures, not fleece around beans, or nets on cherries, but simple masks for when I go shopping. The discussion around mask effectiveness, patterns, materials filters, is endless and confusing. I am experimenting with a few to find one that works for me and I find easy to use. It’s been an uneasy week, staying alert for new threats, and trying to decide what’s best for us. In the meantime nothing seems to stop my hair growing, and the flowers in the garden are showing no signs of holding back…

Shadow quilts, comfort blankets?

Just recently I completed another quilt, or comforter as some call them. Two layers of fabric sewn, stitched, tied together with an insulating layer, a source of warmth and comfort. A member of one of my writing groups (we are now sharing on line) remarked that this was a time for comfort blankets, because it is a time when we are all feeling very anxious and uncertain.

This particular quilt is known as a shadow quilt where dark black frames create a 3D effect and enhance the individual coloured squares. I found quilting the black frames a particularly tedious part of the process, but without the dark shadows this quilt would look flat and offer no sense of depth.

At this moment when we are encountering deep shadows of fear and disease in an unprecedented way in our life time, it is hard to accept that the dark times may be part the process. Right now sources of comfort become very important. The meaning and origins of the word comfort is to “strengthen very much” Latin; confortare – strength, support, consolation

As we go into this time of shadow and uncertainty, connecting with each other to comfort and strengthen will become crucial. Let’s maintain that physical distance and stay home, but reach out a social media comfort blanket. Yes it includes those dark shadows, but it offers warmth and strength.

This weekend is the equinox, where days and nights are equal length, a time of turning and transition in the seasons. A reminder that it is the balance of shadow and light which maintains our life on this earth. So let’s pay attention to the earth’s continuing steady daily journey through darkness and light, and the seasonal beauty unfolding around us. And be comforted.

From our garden today

Promise?

A new month. The sky this morning is a cloudless blue and the garden is blossoming in cheerful clumps of colour. Such a joy after many days of grey.

The news is not so cheering. Coronavirus alarm is spreading as fast as the disease, and people’s lives are overwhelmed by fear as real as the floods of water which have destroyed so many homes in the last few days.

I feel the gloom and anxiety hanging over me like the grey clouds. So it is a challenge this week, on an online course I am doing, to focus on the theme of joy. As I often do, I turn to poetry, to Mary Oliver’s reflections on joy. I particularly appreciate her realism about things which are not OK, but she does not abandon hope.

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,

don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty

of lives and whole towns destroyed or about

to be. We are not wise, and not very often

kind. And much can never be redeemed.

Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this

is its way of fighting back, that sometimes

something happens better than all the riches

or power in the world. It could be anything,

but very likely you notice it in the instant

when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the

case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid

of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.

I added some of Mary Oliver’s words to the art journaling page I made, using garden colours, and drawing the vegetables growing in our garden. The colours are a contrast to my mood, but using them lifts my heart.

Another recently completed project is a Bargello quilt sample I made on a workshop day. I used scraps of fabric from my stash to learn the new technique. I can only describe the result as a kind of rainbow, and brings up words from my past which are a source of comfort and promise on a grey day.

O Joy, that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to Thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain
That morn shall tearless be.

On this day – January 28th

By the time we reached this date in January last year I had given up posting here! My last comment (January 26th) was a sketch of my glue bottle and remarks about feeling stuck.

This is the time of year when I find it hard to keep going. January seems to last for ever, and the days are dark and cold. But browsing through my posts for this date in past years I also find hints of what keeps me going. One is being creative in some way, stitching most often. The other is in discovering the garden’s ability to continue to grow through the dark moments.

Two years ago today I sketched some early rhubarb. The exuberant and almost neon colouring of forced rhubarb is always a surprise, and is a great reminder that even in the dark short days of winter there is hidden sweet brightness just waiting to be discovered.

January 28th 2017

Not yet enough for a crumble, but sufficient stalks and leaves emerging from the dark earth to give a little thrill. The intense pink and acid yellow colours of the early forced rhubarb provides a jolt of pleasure, and gives me a moment of wonder as to how such bright vivid colour can be produced in a complete absence of light, only revealed when I lift the cover.

However it does it, it always cheers me up! 

https://weaversjournal.wordpress.com/2017/01/28/colour-in-the-dark-small-stone-28/

On this day – January 25th

Today I have been reminded of the time when I made the blue patchwork cushion on the writing chair where I sit each day. On this day four years ago I did not know what my pieced together shapes would become. I did not know they would become an object which has supported me through many days of ups and downs, and hours of reading and writing.

Perhaps the lesson I can draw today is that it doesn’t really matter if we don’t know what it’s for, the important thing is just to get on with the business of creating from whatever we have to hand. Its purpose will be revealed later, maybe years later, and maybe not even to us.

January 25th 2015

Cutting up bits and pieces
Into carefully measured
Smaller pieces.
Then joining up the little pieces
Into carefully arranged
Bigger pieces. 

Now what do I do with it?

This is the product of my cutting up my “blue Monday” fabrics, and piecing them together at an Embroiderer’s Guild workshop, using shaded four patch blocks. Quite a satisfying (although fiddly) process but I don’t know what to do with it now!

The story of our lives, perhaps?

https://weaversjournal.wordpress.com/2015/01/25/bits-and-pieces-small-stone-25/

On this day – January 18th

Today I am saddened by the news that Mary Oliver has died at the age of 83. I love so many of her poems and other writing, and a few lines from her poem “Sometime” are written on the first page of my very first journal.

Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.

Five years ago on this date on Weavers Journal I was inspired by artist and journaler Paulus Berensohn. His craftsmanship and artistry matches the almost spiritual practice journaling has become for him. WordPress will no longer allow me to “embed” the video I attached at the time, but click on the picture or follow the link to access the film, or visit my original post. I have so enjoyed watching this again.

January 18th 2015

Wrinkles of wisdom crease his face,
Hands caress
Papers of glorious patterns,
Fingers deftly stitch
Leaves of his day
To build a nest.
Tenderly stroking pages
He whispers to his life companion.
Inspiring others to make
Love –
By paying attention.

“Not a way of making a living, a way to make a life” – Paulus Berensohn

Soul’s Kitchen from TOTM Film on Vimeo.

Today’s writing prompt was to watch another person. Coincidentally a friend on Facebook had posted a link to this video, and so I watched this dancer, potter, journal maker…
I also had to learn how to post a link to a video! I hope it works for you and you can see what I saw 

https://weaversjournal.wordpress.com/2014/01/18/watching-the-artist-small-stone-18/