The grandkids left early this morning. We made some wild and crazy cupcakes before they departed.

And had a campfire and supper on the beach on a chilly and foggy evening.

We reminisced about the time and the days that we had spent together.

And then decided that it truly is the little things in our lives that make all the difference, especially when we are together sharing and hugging and being there for one another.

We have had our grandchildren visiting us since the fourth of July. We spent a week in Portland and nearly sweltered in the heat and the mosquito infestation, but before we headed to Mendocino we picked raspberries on Sauvie Island on one of the hottest days of their visit.

As we were shopping for cold drinks and popsicles before heading home, we discovered this little dog that accompanies one of the workers to his job each day. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to photograph this cutie.

Several nights ago we decided to do our homemade pizzas, something that is becoming our tradition with the kids each time they visit.

This morning we started painting the rocking chair for their new baby cousin, due within the next two and a half weeks.

I am sorting through fabrics getting ready for some fun exploration for Jude of Spiritcloth’s class, “The Beasts”. In the interim, after the grandkids leave on Sunday, I will continue my sewing for the new grandson. Lots of things going on this summer, all fun and full of anticipation. My absence here is due to family and much in the way of sewing projects. I hope to be posting more for the class, and hopefully, some fun beasts!

a new grandchild on the way,

a beautiful rose in the garden,

a collection of fabrics waiting to become,

a much-loved cat,

a view of nature and finding solace there.

I really welcome comments if you have the time and inclination, but I probably will not be able to respond to each one of you at this particular time. I simply wanted to share some thoughts and let you know I am still present in this space.

Yesterday before lunch I saw that the sun was shining (briefly is the key), and decided to go cut some of my roses. The wind, rain, and hail have really been whipping them around just as they were all starting to blossom. I had to save a few and bring them inside. In this bouquet there are probably five different roses even though they all look the same. If textiles are a passion, roses come up as a second or a winning tie. I seem to never get enough of them when they are in bloom.

I have been reading, again, the British author, Beverley Nichols. I love his books. I always laugh out loud when I am reading them, the only books that seem to generate a sort of spontaneous giggle. So as B. Nichols would say, I rescued the languishing pink ladies from their drunken despair and brought them in to dry out. Of course Nichols would have elaborated with more flourish and irreverence, but I think he would have maybe giggled a little at my effort to embellish.

I think I might be beginning to blossom a little too. This package arrived in the mail yesterday. I am still engulfed with the meaning, the effort, and the beauty.

When I am in Mendocino, I start every morning with a walk down to the headlands and across to the stairs down to the beach. No matter what the weather: sun, clouds, pouring rain, or wild winds, I am destined for the beach. It is the one constant in my routine when I am here. Usually it is after my first cup of coffee and my half hour reading time.

This time of year there are many flowers in bloom. Come late August and September, all the blackberry bushes have ripening fruit, and it is always hard to resist nibbling fruit along the path.

Over the years, I have learned much about the tides and the changing appearance of the ocean. Some mornings, the ocean is almost as flat as a lake or there is little beach left for walking. This morning I could walk way out beyond where I usually do and could peer into caves and look down and see the way the ocean had sculpted the sand beneath.

Occasionally I will find a dead seal or other wildlife, a reminder that life is very dear….and short. We never know if this might be one of our last days, so although sad and sobering to witness, it also reminds me to view the day ahead of me as a gift to cherish. (Note: I talked to my youngest daughter today, and she said she enjoyed looking at the beach and remembering the times we have walked here together, but she was a little taken back by this photo of the bird. Something tells me to keep it here, but another part of me says to remove it because it is harsh. I think life is harsh sometimes, and I think that the way we treat animals and wildlife is harsh on a regular basis. I think this is a reminder to be more caring and gentle and aware.)

Then there is the sign on the restroom door to remind me that it is my job to be a steward of the park, that I need to take responsibility for its care and litter-free condition. Every state is facing these budget cuts, and now it is up to citizens to pay better attention and help care for these very special places we have taken for granted.

…….so we can all continue to enjoy these parks.

Even some of the paths are eroding. There is always maintenance it seems.

As I head down my street, planning my day, I realize I am a bit behind with comments to others, emails, and visiting other sites as well. We have had unexpected guests since Wednesday evening and tomorrow my brother arrives for a visit. I have two skirts cut out and ideas for other projects I brought, but it will all be managed in due time. I also have a post in my head that keeps urging me to focus and write about it. I will in a day or so. I have so much on my mind in terms of women, our work, our worth, and how we can exist with strength and courage to be exactly who we are and what we deem important personally and universally. It seems a huge subject, but one that is occupying my mind and my heart these days. I will be back here soon.

We traveled back to Mendocino, California yesterday from Portland, Oregon, a twelve hour drive with stops for gas, rest rooms, and a picnic lunch. The three cats in their cages were so well-behaved this time. I think they knew they were headed to the place they love most. I took this photo just as we arrived at the Pacific Ocean on Highway 1 around 8:00 PM. From here we had about another 55 minutes before we pulled up in front of our little house.

From time-to-time I am asked about life here in Mendocino. I have never really shared the story of how I came to live here, so I decided I would describe the house and a little personal history. When people who are familiar with the area realize you live in Mendocino, a small town on the Pacific Ocean about three and a half hours north of San Francisco, they always ask if you live “in the village.” Well, we do, on a street directly east of the ocean.

This is a partial view of the village from my husband’s upstairs study.

I met my husband about 14 years ago, after I had moved to San Francisco from Ashland, Oregon. Shortly after our meeting, he brought me to Mendocino so he could introduce me to the town and see the house he owned. At the time he was working in Oakland just across the bay from San Francisco, but he would travel north on weekends to this coastal town whenever he could manage. I had never been here, but had heard of it and recalled it as a regular location for some famous movies as well as a well-known hippie town. My first visit was a bit underwhelming. I loved the beauty, but the town itself seemed a bit rough around the edges. Now, over time, it has become a little too refined, and I long for the days when it seemed less trendy.

Over the years, I have put much into the house and garden. I have wallpapered every room with the exception of the tiny kitchen, bathroom, my husband’s study, and what we call “our reading room.” Wallpaper is my weakness, and I think this is because it is so close in appearance to textiles. This room above is the main living area with the kitchen just behind.

This is the downstairs bedroom, and we use it as a guest room. Our stairs are pretty steep and not conducive to easy access for guests to the only bathroom we all share which is downstairs off this bedroom.

The dining room actually was the living room when I first visited. Later we remodeled and what was once the large kitchen became the living room, and the laundry room became the small kitchen.

When I was deciding on the kitchen colors I was inspired by a room I had seen in The World of Interiors that used many colors in the small space. I chose seven colors, but my favorite is the blue that frames the window looking out on the back garden.

The stairs, as I have said, are a bit treacherous. I think we have all taken our turns falling down them at one time or another without injury, and that is quite remarkable.

This photo was taken in the morning without the flash.

This photo was taken late afternoon with a flash. The sun is always brighter in this room in the late afternoon.

This is our bedroom off my husband’s study upstairs. Of all the bedrooms of my entire life, this is my favorite. It is so immensely comforting going up here to bed. It reminds me of sleeping in a gift box turned outside in. There is not a place on earth that could compare to its coziness, comfort, and enveloping cocoon quality. This brings me to another distinction of this house. It has never been pretentious, particularly as seen from the street. I think this is why people love to stay here. It has this warmth and a kind of soft feeling, an embrace, once you enter. This has nothing to do with decorations. Any one who has ever lived here, even when it was in its most pared-down state, has always commented on the “heart” that one feels here. And I have to admit when family comes to stay, we all have a hard time getting out of our pajamas much before noon or even sometimes by three in the afternoon. We joke about it whenever we congregate here, but we are always quick to defend our right to melt into the rooms.

This is a view of the back out the bedroom window. In the distance is the little house I have shown previously and the garage that is off to the left. It was moved further back off the street before my husband bought the house, and now we use it for our laundry area as well as gardening tools and storage.

This was once a third bedroom, but when my husband retired and we moved to Mendocino full-time some years ago, we turned it into a “reading room” because it faces west and the quality of the light in this room is so breathtaking, we simply wanted to spend more time there. For years it had been painted white over layers and layers of wallpaper. A few years ago, I peeled and stripped the paper off and painted it the original color that it had been many years ago.

A watercolor of Mendocino by A. Stump 1994.

How we came to live here full-time and eventually moved to Portland is another story, but one story stays the same. Mendocino is the longest I have lived anywhere in my entire life, and coming back here always feels like coming home, a true coming home.

I have been thinking a lot lately about colors in our lives, and primarily what colors we choose for our clothing. On my morning walks, I have been inspired by all the natural and vibrant colors in all the spring flowers. Tulips seem to be blooming in everyone’s gardens and now the wisteria hanging over porches and arbors are about to burst into bloom. Then there are all the various greens that are so new and fresh this time of the year.

So why is it, I have been wondering, do we not look like we are celebrating life rather than mourning life? I realize there are many personal and vast world problems, but this is a given whether we like it or not. Yet many of us, myself included, continue to wear black or gray or beige or dark blue as a staple tone in our wardrobes. I cannot stand apart and cast blame because I, too, wear mournful colors a lot. Yet, if people were to mourn my death, I would hope they would all wear the colors of vibrant and beautiful flowers, the colors that we encounter every day in nature.

I am curious if this is a trend over a number of years or is it an issue of politics. If I dress in somber tones will I be considered serious, capable, accomplished? I do think the issue of feminism has directed women of all ages to assess how they come across in a culture predominately ruled by men. Therefore to compete for the better jobs in the corporate world, perhaps women need to look confident. Possibly color in a corporate setting makes one appear frivolous. That said, when one has a day off or if one works out of one’s home, why not set the black jacket or sweater aside and embrace color and celebrate being alive for this moment and maybe the next.

Vogue Knitting Winter 2009/10, Page 72

Page 73

Page 70

All of the photos are similar because they use the same green more somber color, but pair it with some other vibrant colors. I think it works. It actually sings!

Page 47

The texture, color, and pattern are brave but worth the risk.

I have spent some time this week going through some of my textiles looking for fun pieces to use in clothing. These two pieces I purchased in France many years ago. A woman, Brigette Singh had moved from Paris to India with her husband and was making colorful wood block prints using original blocks from Mughal textiles and using the old methods of dyeing. She opened a shop in Paris and was selling clothing as well as fabric that she had printed in India. I was captivated. I bought a few pieces and then returning a few years later, went back and purchased a few more. I made a few decorative pillows, but now I am considering their application in clothing and how colorful and fun they would be to use.

I posted this vintage linen piece in another post awhile back. I pulled it out of the cupboard a few days ago and asked myself why not use it for a jacket or a skirt. I have two long pieces. They used to be curtain panels, but no one is keeping track of its use except I. There are so many ways to create new stories for a piece. This coming week I plan to begin cutting and sewing as well as finishing my linen blouse with the antique trim.

Imagination Gives Us Wings
1994
Larry Kirkland (b. 1950 – )

Mount Shasta

“I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief…for a time I rest in the grace of the world, and I am free.”

Wendell Berry

I finished the skirt late Friday afternoon, and silly me, after it was done, I was thinking how great this would have looked on Vanessa Bell with a paintbrush in hand and a canvas in front of her or Virginia Woolf seated at her desk, pen in hand, writing her journal or finishing the last line of To the Lighthouse. I am always partly stepped back into that time period. I am not sure why, but it feels comfortable and right to me.

I selected a tiny round antique fabric-covered button for the loop closure. I love this pattern and intend to use it again. It was so easy and, for this textile, a perfect match.

I wasn’t happy with the hem. The weave of the fabric created some waves in the hem, even though I hand-basted it before attaching it to the lining before turning. I am going to take out the stitching and let the hem hang separately from the lining. I think this might give the wool a chance to relax and hang as it should.

Before going to bed last night, I went into the backyard and looked up at the moon, its power and, of course, its beauty. I went back in and got the camera to take a photo. My heart is somewhere in the universe with this moon caring for more earthquake victims and for others who need guidance and wisdom.

I am feeling a little rusty the last few days, needing an outdoor break I think, a long hike in the woods. I have been inside too much perhaps, and glued to my computer or sorting and labeling and pricing and well…too rusty for words. Guess I need a Sunday to unhinge and let my brain rest on idle for one day.

I would like to glide in the wind as these birds are doing or….

rest easy in one of these serene and lovely places. I will be here in my mind until Monday reading a good book by the fire and taking a little break from the technical world. I hope you all are having an easy and comfortable weekend.