Life Cycles

A day of tumbling raindrops

A day of scratching stitches

A day of thinking about life.

Thinking about my ninety five year old mother in law

who looks so frail nowadays.

Missing my Handy Hubby as he spends a couple of weeks with his mother.

Thinking about my boys

and hoping they really live their lives.

A Play Day

Diane came round for the day

and we made marks

Some pretty ugly

Some on paper

Some on fabric

Some could do with more work

but I think this one could be stitched.

A play day

It's important to play.

Scratching into December

Monday we organized and rearranged furniture in the house

for a dinner party on Tuesday

Five golfers and their wives.

A natural dyed scrap stitched down because it was my friend Diane's birthday.

She's my natural dye and mark making companion.

Handy Hubby flew off across the pond at midnight

Not a very creative week stitchwise

but we have scratched our way into December.

The year is nearly gone.

Goodness me

it is flying by.

For those of you in Ontario

my 'Rusty Gate'

is in the show 'Tradition in Transition' at The Joshua Creek Heritage Centre.
A show curated by Sandra Reford who has done a yeoman's job
taking the show to France and now to Oakville.
If you click on Sandra's name you will see her write-up about the opening
and over at Judy's journal you'll see more photos.

Have a nice day.

Moonset...Sunrise

A moody moon was setting as we left the house

and a shiny sun started rising as we walked the dike

and RP Kayla laid in ambush for a while

then, whoosh, she pounced

and birds gathered on tree branches watching our morning antics.

Woodland Rusts

The woods are carpeted and warmer than the dyke

Sitting pretty

A dappled RP

more interested in squirrel activity back in the woods

than posing for the camera.

We walk over roots

leaves

and

mosses

Do the roots come to the surface on purpose

or

have we worn the earth away?

A chevron stitch perhaps

Woven roots.

Sunrise and Evening Grossbeaks

Some mornings the sun is a ghost of itself

She's hidden behind thick white blankets

Frost clung to ground level grasses

but anything above five inches was just damp

strange.

Arrived back at the house to find

the feeders busy with Evening Grossbeaks.

They must be disappointed

the crab apple tree didn't produce any delicious fruit this year.

Last year they gorged with beaks dripping in red juices.

This year they have to resort to seeds

and ground hopping.

Tingling, Frozen Fingertips

The colours of early winter

Icing on a leaf

Grasses are so skinny they must really feel the cold!

The RP's really show up against  those cool iced greys

The sun hasn't yet hit the white churches across the basin

That's more like it.

Now let's go home and stitch.