jude hill spirit cloth

Just a little News

I have begun to sort through content that needs to be added to the Methods Index.  This will take a while as I read through my old blog and old classes.

Yesterday I added a Fringe section.

Things may move around and menus rebuilt as I organize.  The search works rather well if you are looking for something that has not yet been indexed.

I hope to add a PlaceKeeper this week, that is, links to others.

Transition. Spring is coming.  A few loose patches of snow but some warm days this week will be refreshing even if just a short break from colder temperatures.  Some additional clearing will take place soon, just small stuff and brush, outside, beyond the porch here. We look forward to looking all the way through to the stone wall that borders this back edge of the property and the  little stream that runs along side it. Mostly we can just hear it from here, now and then. I miss Mom, that's her rocker.  It feels like she is sitting here today. And I miss Michelle who never made it here to visit.  That blue glass bottle, an empty saki bottle, held the flowers I put there after her passing.  I picked it up to take a picture and it shattered with a ringing sound,  not falling too far away, not cutting me but it seemed to be teaching me about the beauty of broken.

There is a nigella seed pod there.   Planting time is nearing.

loose pieces

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  1. Hmm, I thought I left a comment yesterday. Bet Widget distracted me before I typed it. (Widget who has adopted Nana’s rocking chair as “hers.) I am ready to plant peas and some poppy seeds that should have been sprinkled sooner. ,

  2. Beauty here Jude. To hear the sound of water would be so lovely. I’ve been coming across comments from Michelle in old posts…both a comfort and a sadness. There are many to miss it seems, including my mama too. I like the glass on the sill, catching light and really nothing else needs to be done (this is a little A-Ha for me, just enjoying it as is, not trying to ‘save’ it or repurpose it). hugs.

  3. vickiseastrom

    The photographs of your screened in porch could have been of my long ago house in Georgia, a place that had been home for more than 20 years and then wasn’t, as my marriage broke up (after my heart had broken open wide). The porch was the best thing about that house too and in many ways. Being broken is a chance to grow again, picking up the pieces and finding home within. I grieve our losses and celebrate the rememberings. Thank you.

  4. Your mom’s chair is such a nice remembrance. Beautiful spot for placement and thinking back. Also, I love that you shared your fringe method again.

  5. Yvonne

    Beautiful bottle still, I love it’s colour and pattern. Good that the experience of it breaking left a positive feeling. I enjoy revisiting your blog posts and classes, fringes ….off to explore and take it all in, thank you

  6. Sharon Koch

    your mom’s rocker looks like it has arms outstretched in a hug. the glass changing shape in your hands… a letting go, yet still with you. a beautiful reminder. x

  7. Oh, I love “the beauty of broken” – you say so much in a few words. I miss my Mom, too….Especially when stitching with fabrics she touched.

  8. Cath

    I miss my mom too. Tomorrow is Ste Françoise celebration day, her name. I will take a sniff of her perfume bottle, Eau de Roche (rock water) like when I was a young girl.

  9. Sidella O'Brien

    Reminds me of a line from a Lenard Cohen song –‘there is a crack in every thing ,that’s how the light gets in’, greetings on International Woman’s Day from Dublin ,Ireland.

  10. I’m so sorry the bottle broke. Was it a gift from Michelle? You could put it back together wabi-sabi
    I miss my mother too, but am glad she is not here during the pandemic and the nonsense in Washington. It would have upset her terribly.
    I do get the idea of nothing is permanent- the glass breaking
    time to move forward- Spring

    • jude

      it was a bottle I saved from long ago. The breaking as quite exciting really. a beautiful letting go. I cannot imagine my parents in these strange times. But they went through wartimes and I suppose that is just as awful.

  11. International Women”s day : women we love that are still here. and those who aren’t anymore (the moms).
    I think Michelle was ringing a bell, for attention, for remembering the love

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