July 2013

as july is leaving…

…I am full of thoughts. Thoughts that need some quiet and solitude in which to ripen, and perhaps some warm sun and the darkness of the new moon…
There will be some new arrangements and redecorating here, as well, as I make room for the fruits of these thoughts. I will be moving The Bower to my website in the next week or two, wanting everything under one roof where I can take better care of it all. The move should cause no disturbance, tho’ if it does, I will be sure to remedy it as quickly as possible.
Part of the quiet for me will be online, as well, as I take my first holiday at Wisteria & Sunshine, and join in with Susannah in taking an August break with writing here…but not with the sharing…

It will just be mostly photos for awhile, perhaps a few words now and then. I am craving lots of staring-into-space time…hours with pencil and paper and magazines to tear…and room for my heart and mind to breathe-deep, long breaths…
“She did not know anything about gardening, but the grass seemed so thick in some of the places where the green points were pushing their way through that she thought they did not seem to have room enough to grow. She searched about until she found a rather sharp piece of wood and knelt down and dug and weeded out the weeds and grass until until she made nice little clear places around them.

“Now they look as if they could breathe,” she said, after she had finished with the first ones. “I am going to do ever so many more. I’ll do all I can see. If I haven’t time today I can come tomorrow.”
-The Secret Garden
Frances Hodgson Burnett
P.S. I enjoyed every heartfelt comment on my last post. The garland is now tucked away in my mother’s wicker chest, at the ready. I have more sewing planned for August, but won’t be joining in with {TH}read tomorrow…next week, I hope.

threads-old and new

Joining in with Peggy again, sharing some of the {TH}reads of my week.
Amongst other things, I am reading the journal my mother kept for a few months after my father left in 1984. She was 53, just a year younger than I am now. I wish it was longer than a half-filled composition book and a handful of letters…but I don’t think I could ask for it to be more than what it is. It is full of her and is helping to bring back memories of Mom before the Alzheimer’s changed so much-in her and in my memories of her.

And as for the making…I am glad to be able to say that the garland of her old handkerchiefs is finally stitched and hanging over the threshold of the new-to-us bedroom.
It is good.
It feels helpful, to have accomplished it.
Another small layer of healing.