jude hill spirit cloth

faceless day

we become like moons too

This one is still here.  The one I called They Became Like a Tree. From back here.  And still no faces.  I am thinking about faceless. How it does not mean formless.  Or empty.  I might look more while considering a new name like Facelessly Forming.

How life might go, with no one noticing.  How randomly things come into view. Become known. Become part of one's story.

Magnolia.  Never a friend before,  just  a whisper of a tree being.

It was a hard late freeze.  Blackened buds are falling.

But some seem to be ok.

Hard to tell , they are up high.

Opening.  But different. I used to put faces on trees.  Maybe to make them more like me.  To seem to understand.

who are we?

I sat and talked, across from my robe this morning with coffee.  It seemed a self.  Without a face.  I snapped a picture just as Soul-O walked by leaving only a shadow.  I found it to be such an interesting image.  And suddenly odd that I had  the thought to take a pic.

I love that I have made this garment and that I have had it long enough to mend it.  And that it wears so well.

forever zone post today


  1. carroleb

    The faceless faces seem like they are shining, like the moon.
    I love my robe, unfinished, still dreaming her into being.
    Your wonderful robe has such presence.

  2. Grace O’Connor

    My magnolia is faceless, have waited 9 years! Not even a bud,? still hoping, maybe Year 10 will bring a bloom in Ireland

  3. Pam S.

    A treasure of stitching in your beautiful robe 💙💙💙 and I’m liking the non-faces! still just as interesting to me.

  4. Marti

    The moment, in early morning, when all is still dark, stars may be overhead, a breeze dances across the sky and is felt on my face, trees are merely silhouette forms in the dark sky, that moment before daybreak, an empty space that is so rich with possibilities, this is my favorite part of the day.

  5. Jana

    I am looking around this living room where I sit and there are only three handmade things and I didn’t make any of them. One was made by my father, one by his mother and one by an unknown stranger from who my purchased a blanket at a fair. To have a robe to wrap one self in that was made by your own hands … a robe to sit across from at the table … now that is special.

  6. dewey

    trees should have faces to match their beautiful souls. I love trees and never tire of just sitting and watching them. winter,spring,summer or fall.

  7. There are times when we are part of a group, still individual but a part. Faceless holds that for me. Less identified. I really like imagining you sitting across from a chair holding your robe. The poetry of that.

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