a boro bobble moonday

The roses are excellent in these whereabouts, maybe due to the fact that last year was pretty much a wash. I'm collecting Gertrude Jekyl blooms that have already peaked to dry on screens. Their fragrance is heavenly and the house will soon smell like a rose garden.

I stitched one tiny boro bobble this afternoon -- thinking future ones should be made using only scraps of cloth and threads from the thread nest.  It's a sweet little project.

Chamomile is thought to be a plant doctor in the garden so I probably won't cut any more of its flowers this summer -- I want it to go to seed now in order to re-naturalize itself. For some reason, it nearly disappeared from my garden except for the one that grew alongside a kale plant in the cold frame. These few flowers I cut will be just enough for a few cups of tea -- you only use the flower heads for tea so any stems or foliage will come off. When I squished one of the puffy centers, it gave a nice apple aroma like a freshly-cut Granny Smith, so I know it will make good tea. (A plant doctor has a beneficial effect on nearby plants.)

Today is a waxing moonday in the sign of Libra. Balance, beauty, and the use of color are enhanced under a Libra moon. To me, that means feathering my nest.

food

I tied some cloth strips onto the sweet little pine cone branch thinking it could hang on the bee house. We'll see -- I'll have to try it out after dusk when the bees are in for the night. Yesterday I put on my bee suit to pay them a visit, opening up the top level, removing a layer of insulation, and checking the top frames. They were most gentle with me -- I was appreciative, too, because last time I checked on them they seemed a little aggressive. 

More wild greens went into the freezer this week. The bowl holding nettle leaves is my largest mixing bowl so that gives you an idea of how big the leaves were. Out of all that -- four more cups of summer greens for winter soups. The broccoli is the first cutting from plants that repeatedly froze back, yet persevered. Remember the snowstorm on May Day.

The talisman for the knitted goddess holds items that I feel relate to the root chakra -- a ruby, pomegranate seeds and red rose petals from Nancy. "... the spiritual purpose of the root chakra is deeply locked within the seeds of the pomegranate......to provide the ability to tap into deep levels of courage and strength whenever necessary..." (Gurudas) 

Speaking of! -- Nancy, who writes up food for thought (and the soul) over at Pomegranate Trail, tagged me with beautiful treasures -- just a few of them are in the photo below -- thank you again, Nancy. TAG (Together Articulate Gratitude) is a sharing of positive feelings and memories by showing gratitude and there may be gifts involved. Nancy's TAG spreads the love. I know. 

Thanks for visiting here and happy weekending to you. xo

moonday gardens

I've been planting stitches inside and seeds outside. As I stitched on this tiny May moon cloth, I thought about the cycle of bud to bloom, how a bud becomes so swollen it has no choice but to burst into blossom. And so this little full moon followed suit by swelling out trapunto-style (slit, stuffed, stitched). The background of the piece is a repurposed silk sleeve eco-dyed with St. Joan's wort -- it took a bit of loosening up on my part to allow the rough and refined to come together like this.

The pole beans have been planted, one type per pole. This is a working back yard, I try to make use of each and every plant in some way (drying, freezing, tincture, etc.) over a period of time. One year, I'll harvest and freeze nettles and the next year my focus may be on a different wild green -- and so on. It is a low-stress way to get to know most of the plants on this little patch of land I'm lucky enough to care for.

Today is a waxing moonday in the sign of Cancer. A time of possibilities and potential, it feels good now to be home tending inner and outer gardens -- exploring, planting, watering, and nourishing.

As the moon swells into perfect fullness, here's to filling and growing ourselves.

"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to bloom." Anais Nin

a plastic bag planter

I bought another little planter made by earthlinks, a development project (for homeless and low-income people) that has its roots in the garden. Made from recycled plastic bags, it's generously sized, has drainage holes, sits nicely when filled, and folds up for storage. What's not to like, I say. See the ones I bought from earthlinks last year here.

Pole beans saved for seed -- now I'm going to sort them and plant each variety separately to determine, once and for all, the best bean. And there's a lot going on at the bee house, the photo doesn't do it justice!

Thanks for visiting and happy weekending. I'll be in the garden. xo

moonday gifts

My one spiderwort, Tradescantia occidentalis, is blooming, the contrast between the leaves and the petals is striking. When its blue stamen hairs are exposed to radiation or chemical pollution, they turn pink. It was planted here in Colorado at the Rocky Mountain Arsenal as an indicator plant during an on-going clean-up process. The gifts from the plants are everywhere and endless, that is the one thing I know for certain today. 

Another bundle (silk) came out of the oak leaf/lightning water dye-pot and I stitched black and yellow onto the May moon cloth (dyed with St. Joan's wort).

Today is a waning moonday in the sign of Aries. The moon is retreating into the shadows now, soon she will be totally hidden. If you feel like pulling back, you may be in sync with Nature and moon energies. And if being invisible sounds appealing, well then, too. I like knowing and living these simple moon lessons of ebb and flow. I believe we are each attuned to them at the very core of our being.

Have a beautiful week.

out of the dye-pot: a new blouse

Today was the day. The oak-leaf/lightning water dye-pot has been brewing out in the garden since last fall. My very disappointing eucalyptus-dyed cotton blouse was re-bundled (with red onion skins) a few months ago and has been infusing in the pot ever since. Oak leaves and onion skins and maybe lightning water, too, are pure magic. I love this outcome. 

There's definitely still life left in the dye-bath so it'll stay awhile. Now I need to find another big pot to brew up some of the bindweed I'm harvesting. I may not be able to grow certain plants, but I do seem to have a knack for bindweed. It's a good thing bindweed makes such a wonderful dye-bath, see it here and here.

I miss sewing and knitting, always do this time of year when there is so much going on outside. This piece surfaced -- or maybe I just noticed it for the first time in a long while -- so I made about 10 French knots and feel much better now. 

The sweet woodruff is in bloom -- exactly one month late. More proof of our funky Spring and that snowstorm on May Day when I should've been making May Wine with sweet woodruff blossoms.

Thanks for coming by! My weekend wish for all of us is that we make time to do what we love. xo

                    

a making moonday

Making things -- a sun and a moon and a flower garden. Unrolling unlabeled bundles, too. I'll have to go back to my autumn dye-pot posts to see what leaves these are. The colander plate is a new find -- the woman who made it says she uses hers for making sprouts.

Today is a waning moonday in Capricorn. Time to focus on things already begun. This feels good to me -- I'm ready to let go of starting new projects for a while. To stay home, to stitch and weed and unroll more dye bundles.

Wishing you a week of beauty and feeling at home wherever you are.