Think Pink

Weaving summer linen scarfs is one way to beat the heat,  if I can't be floating on my back in a lake somewhere in Minnesota or Finland.  I've been fascinated with this picture of an antique dutch darning sampler from 1850, handstitched on linen, with darning stitches that mimic woven patterns.  Isn't that Rosepath? When darning a woven design, the repair would be imperceptible.  The colors and design in this sampler look so modern. My rosepath scarf, woven over several days,  is certainly not fast weaving, but like a story, unfolds in its own time.  In this heat, there is no rush.

Another hand carved spoon set from the Little Old Lady spoon carver of Ely includes, left to right, lilac, black locust, and cherry spoons.

How I Celebrated MLK Day

I look out at the woods and an idea comes to my mind's eye.  Once I have a visual thought like that, even lazy as I am, I can't resist it.  What would it look like if I put some weaving out there in the snowy woods today? I have to see it.  I take some rag fragments I found in a drawer out to the woods, and put them in some branches.  It looks all right, but here's another version, a longer story.

Monday.  Martin Luther King Day.  We had our first wintry snow fall.  I decided to go on a rag bombing walk up to the quarry, with some rag scraps, needles, threads, my new camera.  I picked some trees to bomb, sort of back from the road, and started in.  As I edged my way into the thorns and bushes, I found the trees I'd picked from the road, to sew my rag weaves to, were actually across a ditch, on a ridge in front of another much deeper ditch.  I decided to take a few pictures of my weaves suspended on branchlets,  to test the idea.  I did notice then that I'd worn rather smooth bottom boots for this outing, and the upshot was a sudden downslide into the deeper ditch, protecting my camera with my elbow as I plunged down.  Ouch.  Ouch. Ouch.

I came to rest feeling hurt.  My knee hurt, my elbow hurt. But my camera was ok.  I crawled back out on my hands and knees, back up to the road before I noticed my face felt strangely empty where my glasses should have been. 

" Funny, I thought I was wearing my glasses when I came out here."

 So, I crawled back out again, to where I fell, and searched around in the snow, but couldn't find them.   I headed back down to the shop, with my rag bombing kit, to see if I'd left them safely behind.  No glasses.  This time I put on my good kicks, black suede boots with deep waffles, left behind by my daughter a few years ago,  and heavy gloves.  I hiked back up the hill, and back to the ditch-ravine,  back to the spot where I came to rest, and searched again, and this time I found them, buried. 

No photos were taken of my accident.  I thought I'd go back out again today,  to sew my rags around my chosen trees, but now it's snowing horizontally.  Miraculously, my knee and elbow are feeling fine.

Another thought came to me while floundering around out in the woods: I realized how much I love Martin Luther King, Jr.  He ignited the imagination of oppressed people, he shared a vision that compelled them to unite and take action. Together they had power they'd never before imagined.  I get it.  He was an artist and a great socialist, and my hero.