woman drummer

Today is the full moon, a time to acknowledge and maybe even celebrate what has come to fruition, my scrap-linen drum case being one such thing. 

 '

The three moon squares are hand-dyed bits of cotton and I only used threads from the thread nest for all the handwork. It was French-seamed together on the sewing machine -- the tie is an odd length of plant-dyed silk. 

I love working with linen, it looks and feels beautiful no matter what you do to it. I have a good amount of plant-dyed cloth to use in projects, this is hopefully just the beginning.

Our sweet grass grows in one big clay pot in order to contain it. I want to make up a jar of sweet grass oil with this first cutting -- I read that it should dry for a few days and then infuse the oil for six months. It exudes a heavenly fragrance as it dries and when it burns, so I have high hopes for what it does in oil.

The almost 2-year-old and I followed a huge butterfly as it flitted all around the Buddha garden feeding on larkspur blossoms. A Western Tiger Swallowtail. Huge.

Things I'm noticing...the woad has gone to seed, a section of snow pea vines is kaput and the crickets started up on July 4. Belladonna plants are blooming and forming berries. Our nights are cool, random leaves on trees have turned yellow and red. I think there's a touch of early autumn in the air, the seasons are blurring together again. xx

right outside the door

I found perfection right outside the door the other morning -- rigor mortis had already set in so she'll join some fluff and pods and such in my little curio cabinet. Even if I could open her wings, I don't think I could mount her onto a piece of paper. That would just be wrong, to pin down someone's wings.

This is part of a small grove of bluish-white clary sage, Salvia sclarea, in our front moon garden. I adore this variety -- stocky with huge flower stalks, it glows on cloudy days and shimmers at night.

A bundle of the bluish-white clary sage was hung to dry. Do you notice that plant catalogs often refer to the color purple as blue?

Almost done stitching the last eco-dyed moon square on the linen drum case, but there is one more thing I want to add before hemming the edges and calling it done.

Elder flowers and more elder flowers. One of those white hollyhock flowers held a sleeping Japanese beetle. I let her sleep even though I knew she would go straight to the grape vines to devour at least three leaves immediately upon awakening.

Elder flower liqueur was begun.

I filled a quart jar to just below the shoulder with the flowers and filled it again with 100 proof vodka. After a few weeks I'll strain out the flowers and add other ingredients, maybe a sugar syrup or some honey, depending on the taste.

Lemon balm water infused under a full moon followed by a full day of sun...I make this pretty often, even when the moon isn't full.

I love seeing flower heads on some of last summer's onions that I missed. The flowers are delicious mashed into butter but the bees like them too so not sure about cutting them. I read that you should cut the flowers off and harvest the onions immediately as they will start to rot if left in the ground. But harvesting and using every single thing in the garden isn't really the point for me -- if I use just a little bit of something once or even take time to notice and appreciate a plant, then our connection feels complete.

St. Joan's wort, Hypericum perforatum, flowers started blooming right in time for Summer Solstice. At solar noon a friend and I sat before her holiness and made flower oils. One of the plant's most common uses is to soothe burns and other skin afflictions. By the way, I learned to call this plant St. Joan's wort instead of St. John's wort from Herbalist Susun Weed who says St. Joan knows more about burns than St. John. I agree.

Garden love. Right outside the door. Connecting to the natural world just always brings out the best in us. Where else would you ever find, and leave be, one beautiful little Japanese beetle, all covered in pollen, asleep inside one perfect hollyhock blossom?

Thanks for visiting and happy weekending. xx

may days

It is small but mighty...I love imagine peace so much. Pinned onto a small bag for now, it is one of the exquisite peace offerings created by Liz (I'm Going to Texas is her blog name) as part of a personal outreach practice...completely dyed and stitched by hand. I am honored to have it and know it was successfully imbued with the intention of peace because I can feel it when I hold it to my heart. Thank you, Liz. (Details on mine here.) 

A linen drum case is taking shape at last. The moons are made with home-dyed cotton and the bag itself is a large scrap of natural linen. The drum beater is rolled up in a vintage dresser scarf. The top of the bag will either be a drawstring or just bunched up and wrapped with a strip of cloth. I tinkered around with this quite a bit but in the end simple is best.

 

Slips of coleus and passion flower vine rooting in a glass of water...looks like a branch of May will be carried over into 2018 as it has lost top billing in the sewing room. 

The chive blossom vinegar from early May was strained, decanted and labeled. I looked up shades of pink online and found congo pink matched perfectly.

This is the strongest color I've seen in any of my chive flower vinegars. Maybe it was the weather.

Chive blossom mashed into softened butter, rolled and sliced. Good.

An easy before and after. Before.

After. Enjoyed it immensely, ironing's not so bad anymore. Liked the quiet-slow-and-steady of it all.

This last month of spring has been wild here in Denver, Colorado. There have been several nights below freezing with snowfall (3-12" depending on which storm) and one record-breaking hail storm. On the other hand, the random 70+ degree days we're having now are glorious and it is very green outside. 

Thank you, friends, for visiting and happy weekending. And imagine peace. xx

I want this: 

May the beauty of your life become more visible to you, that you may glimpse your wild divinity. 

                                                                                   Excerpt from A Blessing for Beauty by John O'Donohue

sunflowers morning, noon & night

 

I'm so grateful for sunflowers. They sway and turn, look up, bow down and everything in between. They are hosts to a myriad of insects and soon squirrels, birds and maybe people will come visiting for their share as well. They cleanse the soil of radioactivity and are said to be guardian spirits. I don't doubt for a second their divine essence.

Yesterday I collected flowers to make dye bundles.

Blue and purples to the left, dyers coreopsis and eucalyptus in the middle and portulaca to the right.

Red, gold and pink zinnias with purple basil and blue and purple pansies with blue larkspur.

From left to right the fibers are wool, cotton that was soaked in milk, more wool (a deconstructed jacket sleeve) and silk (a deconstructed blouse collar). This is my first dye project of the summer but I have intentions to do more.

 I learned a new way to cut up watermelon. Less work and more fun to eat.

The beets are sweet and abundant this year, I wish I could say the same of the tomatoes but it's tricky like that here in Colorado.

I'm working on reducing the amount of garden waste we send off to the landfill. This is a permaculture technique called chop & drop and it's done exactly like it sounds. You chop what's no longer wanted or needed at the base, then chop it up a little more, then lay it right back on the ground. Leave the plant's roots intact so that it can either regenerate or decay in the soil. Comfrey is a marvelous soil nutrient and we can't possibly use all its leaves in salve or tea.

Some older chop & drop, mostly burdock leaves and stalks -- if I had extra compost or some dried leaves, I'd cover it to help it break down faster and also make it look nicer. But the decaying look is definitely growing on me. I chopped & dropped for several hours over the last few days -- everything from small weeds to tree trimmings. It only makes sense when you think about it, to give back to Mother Earth that which she produced. 

I'm seeing red. The madder patch, Rubia tinctoria, started from seed  three years old, is old enough for some of the roots to be harvested this fall. Madder is a cheerful plant, the greenest of green leaves, tiny blossoms with berry-like seed capsules. It can spread and climb but mine has mounded upon itself to look like a shrub.

Still stitching one little plant-dyed moon square at a time -- part of the Quilty 365 project here.

Larkspur seeds collected and ready to be packaged or sprinkled around -- I'm thinking of doing a little guerrilla seed-sowing at the park where I walk the dogs. The city seems to have forgotten about one particular xeriscaped stretch of which half has died off over the last ten years. Today I noticed that hollyhocks have naturalized themselves and maybe next summer there will be larkspur as well. It should be okay since larkspur is a Colorado wildflower.

This is my full moon sewing project for this year. Each full moon of the year so far, cloth has been chosen and cut with stitching time fit in here and there. Loving it but applique-stitching these big moons by hand takes hours and hours.

She's bowing down, her head is heavy. Some days this is exactly how I feel especially when I'm out working in the heat of the day. It has been a hot, hot summer with little to no rain.

The waxing moon lights up the night clouds.

A battery-run votive candle is tucked inside the white vintage three-tier macrame hanger I found on etsy. It came from France and was only around $50 which seemed like an unbelievable bargain at the time, I don't know.

At night this beautiful sunflower still glows, I think the variety is even named Evening Star. Which it is.

Sunflower blessings to you!  xx

spread the love

It happened over two weeks ago on caucus night here in Colorado. I handed my driver's license to the man in charge of my precinct. He coughed all over it, signed me in, and handed my license back to me. Then he took my hand (horrors) and wrapped an ID band around my wrist. I was stunned, I wanted to find a bathroom to wash my hands but the place was so packed I literally couldn't. So I thought to myself do not touch your face or ears (viruses can enter through the ear canal) and wash your hands first chance you get. Well, I got caught up in the excitement of the caucus and totally forgot to wash my hands until I was already back home having a glass of wine. Exactly one week later, I got sick with a cold. Exactly one week after that Jan got sick. Now we're both down, although I'm ahead of him and beginning to see the light. I tell us both that it's good to rev up your immune system like this once in a while.

I'm doing very little in between doses of elderberry or yarrow tinctures and quarts of medicinal herbal infusion -- unrolled a successful cotton/eucalyptus bundle, catching up on Season 5 of Girls and looking towards starting in on Season 1 of Poldark, sewing and knitting a little, arranging things...pinning down the March moon cloth, realizing how yuuuge that white quilt is and wondering how to fill it in. 

"May you be Light" -- Michelle wrote this on her blog and I love it so much I want to remember to think or say it to myself and other people. Silently or out loud, depending on the situation. To spread the love.

May you be Light. 

P.S. Lately I've been taking some photos featuring that beautiful hand-carved honey wand, today it is in the letter E in the word love. I keep forgetting to mention that it is one of my most treasured sacred objects, a gift from Nancy. Isn't it awesome? Nancy gives so freely in the true spirit of connection -- I believe her to be a psychic gift-giver. She just knows.