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