Raven and Sparrow

Tablecloth critique

The spring checkerboard cloth is finished at long last. Overall, it turned out okay, I think. It approaches what I had in mind when I started. It is springy and should be interesting as the base of a table setting. The shapes turned out to be very simple and graphic, which is what I was after. Maybe too simple and graphic. Maybe it lacks subtlety. If I was doing it again I would start with a cloth made off white with chestnut rather than oak galls, which would give a yellower background tinge instead of the brownish base I've got here. I would try again to screen a pattern on the green squares, using a tannin-based dye other than the one that pretty much disappeared on this cloth. I also would wax from the other side, to encourage the indigo break-through that would add interest. The backside of this cloth has more activity than the front, which I could have used to advantage if I had planned it that way. I ended up using less embroidery than I thought I might, although there was a lot of it anyway. (It took a long time.) Using perl cotton for the vine stems worked out well. They stand out nicely (although the picture doesn't show it well) and their curves balance the square shapes of the checkerboard. This isn't the most completely realized tablecloth I have ever made, but it will be a workable one. Come spring we'll try it out.

Miters again....aargh!

Finishing my pieces is always more painful than it should be. I've finally got my viney checkers cloth embroidered (I really need to think of a better name than that.....I remind myself of my son who named his stuffed bear Beary and his stuffed wolf Wolfy...literal, not poetic) and ready for hemming. I am also mitering and hemming my red cloth because I intend to applique and I want to be able to see exactly where the added pieces will fit. That means struggling with the straight lines of the checkerboard, which are straight no longer. The prolonged bout of embroidery meant many hours clutched in my hot hands being distorted away from the straight grain I originally aligned the pattern to. Keeping it square is apparently not possible for me.

Cloth is such a mutable medium. That is a strong part of its charm of course. It's softness, curvable drapability and shape affinity make it like our skin. It lasts a long time, longer than us, sometimes, but wears and tears like we do. It is a naturally powerful carrier of meaning.

Added Note: The red cloth seemed so much easier to mark and hem, but when I finished it I found it to be the most wonky non-square I have ever made. Apparently having no design to work around makes it harder, not easier. I've had to take the hem our completely and begin again.

And the walk goes on

My walk the other day produced so many pictures that I want to share a little more. This is such a stunning area and the day, for January, was spectacular. Our family moved here in 1956 from the Mojave Desert. I was only four at the time and didn't have much of an idea about the size of the step my parents were taking, but all I have ever heard from them was about how we had come to paradise. It has always seemed so to me. In those days Seattle was a total backwater, and this area two hours to the north was like Sleepy Hollow. Nothing ever happened here. We were free to roam the woods and beaches like our dogs, who had no conception of leash laws and fences.

The park dates from the thirties, built by the Civilian Conservation Corps, who left beautiful picnic shelters, rock bridges, and miles of trails that led to the scores of exquisite vistas. We visited it often on our own and always brought our desert cousins when they came up from California. I've been walking here for a long time.

One of the most charming things about the park for me is that it is essentially the same as when I was a child. There are some big changes, but the landscape is the same. The smells of fir sap and seaweed are the same.The sounds of boat engines and raven calls are the same. The light reflects off the water just like it always did. I can still sit in the picnic shelter where I met the governor (Democratic Picnic) when I was in second grade. I can climb the rocks we always headed for as soon as we arrived, leaving our parents to set out the food. At low tide I can crouch by the tidepools and wait for the shy crabs and bullheads to become comfortable with my presence and carry on with their business. The stump that I always thought looked like a fairy portal still does.

One of the changes that has occurred over the years is the number of people who come here. In my childhood, we thought of it as our private playground, but now it is the most popular park in the state (understandably). On summer days the traffic on the bridge is bumper to bumper and people line up black along the railings, looking down into the rushing green water far below. The number of people visiting the tidepools one day in the nineties did such damage to the sealife that they still have not recovered. It is a public park and it is completely right that this exquisite area should be available to all, but like the national parks it is in danger of being loved to death.

In winter it reverts to a more recognizable state of calm. The campgrounds are closed on this side of the pass and I can walk from my house to the headlands under the bridge and see fewer people than agates on the beach. On this walk I met a class of college age people studying the geology of the rocky cliffs, some kayakers putting their slim water arrows into the bay, and a couple out with their puppy, introducing him to the joys of fetch in salt water. Its a great spot for all.

 

 

A walk around the block

Today was a great day for a long walk, so I set out on a ramble around my neighborhood. I am fortunate to live in one of the most beautiful places in the world.

The trails I followed wind around the headlands and bays of Deception Pass State Park in Washington State.

There were salt marshes with resident sea monsters.

You can see where my house is in this picture if you know where to look.

This is the pass the park is named for. It looked calm today, but the amount of water that moves through it is immense.

It was a good day and an excellent walk.

The colors of clouds

On these winter days the light is so fleeting, but for brief moments here and there it is magical. When the heavy cloud cover breaks and the sun illuminates the edges of the scudding overcast, almost any color can be found. My picture is a little disappointing, but today's subtle array of celadon, lavender, yellow, steel blue, and navy was mesmerizing. Winter's colors are often subdued, but more varied than the colors of summer. The red and yellow stems of the bare alders and willows, the dull tan of the dead grasses, and the quiet kaleidescope of the sky and sea make some winter days into color extravaganzas.

I had a good view of the changing display of sea and sky today from the studio as I tried to get my king and queen of hearts translated into patterns that I can wax and paint. They are going to be hard to wax accurately, but doable, I think. I have been trying to simplify the images and keep them similar in size and complexity so that they will look good together. My layout calls for two each, at 8 inches square.

Heralding a new year

   I've spent the whole day sweeping Christmas out of the house. Every year I am glad to see the decorations come out of storage, and when the holidays are over I am just as glad to put them away. The empty surfaces formerly occupied by greenery and shiny things look so restful without them. I roll up the rug and wash the floor, polish the furniture and vacuum the couch cushions. When Christmas departs the house looks emptier and becomes much cleaner, standing ready for whatever the new year might bring. (Tea at Tea and Cookies has a great post about the Japanese custom of cleaning the whole house as a way to greet the new year.)
    The one embellishment I love at New Year's, if I can find them, is daffodils. Seasonally speaking its a little early, but their fresh, cheerful trumpets bring my thoughts resolutely and hopefully forward. Whatever disappointments the past year might have produced, a new year has begun and spring is coming. I wish everyone a new year filled with love and daffodils.

Christmas yet again

  Five days after our family Christmas dinner we were delighted to welcome my brother and his friend Sue for another round of festivities. The Christmas table was still in good shape and still appropriate, but there were only four of us to occupy a space that can seat ten. I didn't want to take the leaf out of the table, because then the tablecloths wouldn't fit as well. I decided to make the space more intimate by dividing up the centerpiece and making two groupings at each end, with a smaller arrangement to anchor the middle. The pretty blue ribbon which had been  winding about in an airy way, agreed to settle down more strictly into a stripe that linked the ends. I thought this solved the problem fairly well, and left me with enough time to try out a  new recipe. I cooked Turkey Saute with Cranberry Salsa...a distinctly lighter variation of traditional holiday fare and a qualified success which left me with mounds of extra turkey breast. We are still eating it.
   It is rare when a tablesetting will slide this gracefully into another use. Usually some element (the flowers) will have degenerated unattractively by the time we entertain again, or the theme, season and reason for the gathering will be different enough to render the original table yesterday's news. It felt good to see this table remake itself so freshly for another round.