quilt tattoo

I added a snake to my quilt back, sort of like a quilt tattoo.

• I drew a snake on a large piece of paper.
• I used this as my pattern/template.
• I placed a piece of interfacing onto my fabric and cut out my snake through both layers at once adding a quarter inch seam.
• Next I stitched around the entire snake.
• Then I snipped an opening in the interfacing and turned the snake right side out.

Until that moment, I had just been making an applique shape, a mere applique shape.

 When I began to turn my snake right side out though, it looked pretty snake-ish.

 It reminded me of a real snake skin that I unfortunately discovered on one of my woodland rambles once.

 Finding a snake skin is almost as bad as finding a snake.

 I pinned my snake down and threaded a needle.

 There it was, slithering along at the edge of my quilt back.

 What an unexpected jolt of color on the large, black back.

ta da

Ta Da.
Voila.
Here it is.

bulging eyes

I suddenly screamed.
Last week as my grandson and I were loping along at the edge of a a field, my voice became the sound of angst.
Those wavering notes seemed to echo all around me.
My grandson looked as startled as you might expect.
When he dashed back and asked me why I'd screamed, I told him it seemed like the right thing to do when you have a big spider hanging from your hair.
Such a big spider too, with striped legs and bulging eyes.
Bulging eyes staring into bulging eyes.

like recharging

The other morning I awoke in an overcast state of mind; cloudy with a chance of rain.
Waking up sad is never a good sign.
I realized almost instantly that the shadow of a dream had been cast ahead out of sleep where it belongs onto my morning self.
I am a person who dreams.
I can always remember fragments and sometimes entire episodes of dream when I awaken until they disperse like mist.
They are separate realms for sure, those lands of sleep and day.
Being awake is something I can understand.
Life bombards our senses.
But sleep is such a mystery.
We fight it as children,
embrace it as teenagers,
long for it as a young parent,
take it for granted and finally,
at long last,
just as we should,
come to celebrate it.
Sleep is where we plug ourselves into our pillows and recharge.

chickadee

A little watercolor card.
A little bird.

clinging

Standing at the fridge, my little granddaughter is pushing the magnets around and around. "Grandma," she asks, "Where are the magnets that have electricity on their backs?"
I look blankly at her.
"She means static electricity," her helpful big brother adds.
Ahhhh yes, static cling. Now who was the clever soul that first harnessed the power of static cling. What was previously halo hair, crackling sweaters and skirts pasted to tights has become window art; colorful and reusable. I have a stack of static cling stickers for my grandchildren's amusement; fairies and flowers, alphabets and autumn leaves and a thousand pieces of Christmas, all magnets with electricity on their backs.

both

"My step-mother looked at me at least once on each of these miserable days, and said: 'Rose-Marie, you look very odd. I hope you are not going to have anything expensive. Measles are in Jena, and also the whooping-cough.'
'Which of them is the cheapest?' I inquired.
'Both are beyond our means,' said my step-mother severely."
Elizabeth von Arnim - Fraulein Schmidt and Mr. Anstruther