I want kind spaces

 I want kind spaces. 

 I miss my husband with the fire of a thousand suns,the tenderness of a thousand moons. 

Poems have eluded me for months. 

Textile work,small collages give me life.

Away for 2 weeks, flying home tomorrow-expect to still be away when I get home.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     (pics of projects past)              

Crow Window Translations

 

old work.
Crow Window Translations, original photo, inkjet print on cotton muslin, randomly stitched to black cotton.
I love crows.
They used to descend on Terre Haute each winter in much greater numbers than I've seen in recent years.
They appear frequently in my poems.
Here's one:

Crow has danced in the last of yesterday’s small snow,
old leaves are a tangle of decaying stars in the mud.
A far pale sun promises things: warm bones,green.
As always,the trees are being here now, mindful,
perfectly aligned in each bare moment,
and Death drifts through the blue shadows,humming
a song you almost know.

Eclipse + UFO care

 First, I have to mention the eclipse. I spent it alone, sitting on the earth amid the amazing number of violets that bloom each spring.  I gathered some things to charge in eclipse energy - a quartz point, a nuumite pyramid, a Winged Goddess figure from Brigid's Grove (I participate in the Patreon 30DaysofGoddess ), my favorite Tarot deck, Forest of Enchantment and a pad and pen, hoping I might find a poem in totality.
That was not to be, but I did find some wisdom in the 3 cards I pulled for a Past Present Future reading. I pulled a card in each phase of the eclipse which I saved to look at after.  I won't share my reading, but it was a lovely astonishment to see this card was the pull during totality: 

And, two minutes before totality, I charged myself: 

As for my creative work, I've embarked on dealing with two rigid heddle looms that have been warped and neglected for YEARS....I mean pre-pandemic ago years!

I've gotten one weaving completed,  the last thing on the Cricket loom, with some finishing left to do before it can be hung up.
The top pic is an Ashford that still has a long warp left.  I'm not going to try to continue weaving on that piece, just take it off, and finish it.  Then I will have a nice lot of warp to weave anew.

A Current Daily Practice: Mini Collage

 I orginally began this blog with the intention for it to be a way to share my creative work, rather than chronicling my personal life. While I feel like the inclusion of some personal detail is necessary, particularly when it fuels my work, I want to maintain the emphasis on sharing art, process, thoughts on art.

I did little creatively in the last year. The stress and anxiety, and so much time spent in medical settings with my beloved husband seemed to preclude creative work. I relied on knitting with patterns, contemplation-cloth stitching (lines and lines of running stitch), anything that didn't require a lot of decisions about next steps. I wrote no poetry. I did keep up my journal. It was useful in mitigating stress (barely) and it's triggering and painful to revisit, so I don't.

About 2 weeks after Paul's death, I resumed a practice I had tried to start on New Year's Day - a daily mini-collage. I made these contraints: work in 5" x 5" blank book, 3 to 5 elements, 20-30 minutes.  I have made one every day since, over 60 so far. 

This practice has been so rewarding for me. It brings me into full presence. For those minutes, I often reach flow state, moving these bits of paper around.  Coming to the moment when their juxtapositions please me the most, when it's time to reach for the glue, is like spending time with a Zen garden, the rhythmic raking of patterns in sand. It is meditative and those minutes are respite and restoration.

If I do nothing in a day but that arrangement of 3-5 pieces of paper, I feel creative release and satisfaction.
I have, however, added a similar daily small poem practice which now includes making erasures on some days.  And soon I believe I will resume my fiber arts work.

I post my mini-collages and erasures on my Instagram.
Here are a few of my favorites.

Thinking About Blogging Here Again After A Really Sad, Awful Year

 Lizards in the Leaves is not quite an orphan blog, but definitely a neglected one.
Social media and the wider reach of it pulled my attention away from this space.
I have never updated my theme or template, this is the obsolete Classic format. My sidebar is dusty and full of cobwebs. 

I'm dusting a bit, changing some things, but I doubt I'll ever manage to make this shiny and crisp. It's an old cyber-house here, it will be 20 next year. It creaks and groans. Nevertheless, it's my cyber-house and I still reside here on and off.
 

 A year ago,  my husband Paul was diagnosed with a rare blood disorder called MDS and an even rarer high-risk version. He was so immuno-compromised we went back into strict masking/lockdown mode.  Months of chemotherapy treatments never changed his condition and  by September he had transitioned into Acute Myeloid Leukemia. A grueling month in hospital in another city brought a partial, very short-lived remission.  The only possibility for cure, bone marrow transplant, had such low odds for him and a guarantee of even more grueling experience that he chose not to pursue that, asked for whatever care he could get here in our home city. We thought he would have a few months of quality life (defined by Paul as being able to go on walks, play the saxophone,and read.)

It turned out to be just weeks. At New Year's, he had a sudden, dramatic decline. After a brief hospital stay, I was able to bring him home with hospice help. When he was in the hospital back in October, he begged me not to let him die in a hospital. He wanted his death to be 'beautiful, at home.'  It was hard, but I think it was beautiful. Two days after getting him home, he died with me right at his side, holding his hand, kissing his brow and whispering words of love and devotion. Our son Shaun was there as well.  It was intimate, calm and sacred.
I am forever changed, standing in liminal space right now,  in a portal, wondering what's behind all that mist  ahead.

A birthday present I stitched for Paul a few years back:

  Paul's obituary

Pink, With Joy Sticks

 

 

 Pink With Joy Sticks/ Spring Spell
5”x10”
Cotton-rayon warp, hand-dyed cotton strips, wire, thread, cotton ribbon yarn

ArtsIlliana Gallery Show Acceptance

 (I hate to see Lizards In The Leaves languish so. Looks like the only way I'll be able to put some life back into this  blog is to post my Instagram pics and thoughts.  Which will be very redundant for anyone who follows me on social media. Except I'll probably be inspired to add a little something here to expand on the post.)

These three pieces were accepted for the next ArtsIlliana gallery show and were delivered Saturday.

What a boost to my spirit it was to even submit in the first place.

I am taking it slowly, but trying to emerge. It’s a new life. With new rules and expectations. And I am not calling anything any kind of ‘normal.’

Mending The Ghostskin (2021)
8.5” X 11”
Cotton fabric, vintage hand-dyed remnants,
 hand-dyed cotton embroidery floss,
appliqued, stitched, embroidered.

 

Charm For Moments Of Equanimity (2021)
3.75” x 7”
Cotton warp, wool weft with reclaimed
sari silk yarn & ribbon,
kantha quilt remnants, clay face*,
woven, stitched, braided, tied

Charm for Sun & Bluest Skies (2021)
3.5” x 7”
Cotton warp, reclaimed sari silk ribbon,
 kantha quilt remnants,
vintage plastic button,
woven, stitched, braided, tied

*Face by Lyn Belisle.
Her Etsy shop is Earthshards