over the horizon

I tend to think of quilting panels as fabric. Just fabric, color coordinated by some other lovely soul and awaiting my rotary cutter to slice and dice into pieces, the smaller the better.

A three inch block worked perfectly with the measurements to get the most bang for the buck.
Rifling in my quilt stash unearthed an amazing fabric to use as setting triangles. A background of yellow and green with a pale aqua print stamped over destined it to be forever united with the diced up panel.

The backing fabric had an allover print that I could squint at as I quilted and allowed me to stitch an all over one inch grid with no measuring or tape required. I've always wanted to try an all over one inch grid with no measuring or tape required. My joy is complete!!

The colors have a wonderful balance between harmony and tension. Everyone knows that makes wonderful music and in art it is no different.

Although the panel was a modest size, it made a runner of epic proportion. It heads off down my table and disappears over the horizon.

in the north

This photo is 100 years old.
It was snapped by my grandfather in the Peace River area of Northern Alberta where he homesteaded for a time.
I can't help but think what a treasure this photo would be to the family of this mother and child, to their great great grandchildren.
How amazing it would be to gaze intently into the serene face of the woman and perhaps see a shadow of yourself.
To admire the clothes of the little child, so beautifully decorated.
And have a window into your ancestors everyday life in the north 100 years ago.

winter moon

I've been wanting to try curved piecing and this small runner was about all my attention span could muster. It may seem a smidge short but when I had stitched and turned and stitched and clipped and stitched some more I couldn't bring myself to start over so I pronounced it complete. Short and complete.
 

Somehow it makes me think of winter moons with ducks flying against the snow gray sky. We've noticed geese and ducks plowing through the low clouds, heading north. While our thoughts have been elsewhere, spring has come just like always.

thing of beauty

Canvas bean bags.

If you are a hockey player like my grandson and have honed your eye/hand coordination into a thing of beauty, juggling could be your thing. You might take to it like a duck to water.

encore

I had little daughters in the 1980s and they were festooned with scrunchies just like all the other little girls. I have granddaughters now and can't believe scrunchies are having an encore.
What's old is new.

so mysterious

We walked in Jackman Wetlands again this afternoon. Turns out another jaunt at Jackman is another close encounter with a snake. What??!!!
I never thought of spring and snakes as somehow entwined, no pun intended, but I guess spring puts many creatures on the move, out of their winter condos.
As we sauntered up the rock strewn path, a woman and her Labrador puppy were heading towards us.
"She saw her first snake," the woman said, smiling.
"Oh," I said, my eyes widening. "Did it scare her?"
"Oh, yes! She was SO scared. She jumped straight into the air and turned sideways," the woman exclaimed.
"It must be instinctive," I suggested, wondering to myself how that could be.
The woman nodded emphatically and told us a little story.
Several years before, they had gone on a trip into the states and taken their other dog, who was about four at the time. It had never seen an alligator, having lived here in Canada. They stopped at a building with a cement alligator out front. As they walked toward it, the dog spotted the sculpture and abruptly stopped, pulling back in obvious fear. The woman thinking to show her pet that there was nothing to be afraid of, walked ahead and lifting her foot, placed it against the side of the alligator. The dog began to bark hysterically and tried to pull her away with all its might. Was that somehow instictive too. How would a Canadian dog know that the likeness of an alligator represented something dangerous?
So mysterious.

again and again

I can't believe I haven't written about this picture before! In fact, I scrolled through my blog forth and back and clicked with ever increasing disbelief on labels but lo, and no, this photo was not to be found. It's the 'not to be found' part that is troubling me.
Aptitudes don't destine us, but they do nudge us along. Some people have a natural aptitude for organizing.
For archiving.
For categorizing.
I struggle with this.
I imagine it is why Pinterest is a wilderness to wander into for me. A wonderful wilderness for sure but how to save the pins. Is the quilted bird meant to be saved to my board called Feathers? Or should it go under Quilted. Or perhaps Color as inspiration for painting. And if I don't know where to place it with clarity, how will I find it later? I could place it in all three categories I suppose. That seems to be what I've defaulted to in my blog. One story/post may have several labels but because life is bewildering, some defy categorizing.
This picture could be Blue River, Photo, Family, and/or Childhood and is one my eye has rested on nearly every time I've scrolled happily though old family black and whites. It captures my very young and happy aunt and my very delighted older sister. They are seated serenely in a construction zone which was likely my cousins downstairs suite in the making. My aunt has her hair piled aloft, funky glasses perched on her cute Nelson nose. My sister is hugging a special baby doll. Her toes are turned in with the joy of it.
Joy.
Yes, it's the joy that stops me in my tracks every time.
It radiates out in technicolor and surround sound.
It's why photos are such a gift. They capture more than a moment in time. They capture the feeling of that moment so that you can feel it again and again.