a twinkling star

My little grandson turned five in June.
I remember when my daughter and son-in-law told us that he was on the way.
It was December and they handed me a small flat package, an early gift, they said.
"Music," I thought, smiling. Inside was a CD cover that contained a slip of paper.
Was it a ticket?
The printing was very dark.
"Why can't I read a thing anymore," I thought, squinting.
My other daughter had joined us and was looking over my shoulder.
Suddenly she joyously gasped. "An ultra sound. It's an ultra sound."
"Ultra sound? An ultra sound? But.... that means they're going to have a baby? " I thought, feeling suddenly very light headed.
"We got to see the screen," my daughter enthused. "There was a heart beat and a little flashing light," she added.
"My grandchild is a little flashing light," I thought, my mind swirling. "Like a star, a twinkling star."

waiting

Sorting through picture files last night, I seemed to come upon my father at every turn. My heart winced with pain at the sight of his gentle smile. For some reason, grief has a way of compounding itself and missing my father lead to missing my brother. They both had July birthdays so that may be part of it, but I think the bigger reason is that I miss their advice and gentle humour. The crossroads of life tend to make us stop and turn to our companions on the journey. My Dad and brother are at the end of the road waiting. There is comfort in that.

up, up and away

I fell off the wagon last night.
My finger nails had enjoyed four and a half years of unbitten bliss.
Family legend has it that I began to bite my nails as soon as I had teeth.
I nibbled, chewed, and nipped my may through childhood and teenage angst.
As an adult, I became oblivious to all attempts to curb my vice. The sorry state of my finger nails became a part of my "low maintenance woman" stance I thought.
And then my grandson was born.
One day when he was a few months old, I noticed that one of his tiny fingernails was snagged. As I absentmindedly drew his little hand toward my teeth, I suddenly realized with shocking clarity what I was doing. WAS I GOING TO TEACH MY GRANDCHILD TO CHEW HIS NAILS???!!
Grandmothers wield a certain power of influence. Like Super Man, I resolved to use my power for good and not for evil.
Four and a half years passed but now, how the mighty had fallen.
It shows that our weakness and human frailty is always there waiting in the wings for their cue.
I have already dusted myself off and jumped back on the wagon. Up, up and away.

about value

I love old things.
My grandmother was unmoved by the hysteria surrounding depression glass. "It was cheap glass then and it's still cheap glass," she sniffed.
The common things, the everyday items that got used and worn out and become rare are "remembered."

I think there are a lot of us that collect the old and rare because they are a connection to another time. It's not about value.

peace

A fire truck just shrilled past my back door.
A sense of imminent danger lingers.
For a few hours this evening the house has throbbed with the persistent growl and thud of road work.
Something large must be backing up out there, an urgent "meep, meep, meep" is making my ears squint.
It's a noisy world tonight and I am glad of the peace that  home offers.
White window trim,
vintage enamel ware,
a flush of green paint,
shadow
and soft golden light.

just one word

My prayers of late have been very short.
Just one word.
"Help!"
I've heard the voice of the Lord in startling and humbling ways. The other morning as I rose from the mist of sleep to wakefulness, my morning plea was answered with the words of an old, long forgotten hymn.
The words!
So amazing.
So comforting.
Words heard as a child, burned on the hard drive of my mind, retrieved when needed.

meandering

After piecing a smallish table mat, I was left with a few half square triangles.

I promptly chopped them in half, and then in half again.

My plan was to create a mini quilt. Waste not want not I thought.

Below are mere shadows of quilts that never were. Ghost quilts.

In the end, I decided to make a pieced border for the table mat. I have some reservations......  it's a perfect match for color and pattern and maybe that's what leaves me lukewarm. 

Still, it was a good exercise in color and pattern as all quilting is.



This quilt was a leap off the end of the dock for me. It was time to take the plunge and try free motion quilting. Gasp.

I gathered my courage, feed dogs, and darning foot. 

Taking a deep breath, I stepped on the gas, sewing on the spot like a runner warming up and then zanging off.

I slowed down to a growl and sped off again with a jerk.

My stitch lengths were as erratic as my breathing.

I had ambitiously chosen to quilt roses and leaves in the four corners and centre of the quilt and meander around the border.

I started with the roses.

Hmmmmm.

Meandering, I could do. It was exhilarating. It was freeing, and it was real, honest to goodness quilting. I actually took the binding off another small wall hanging and meandered around its border too. On to the next!