scrappy tote

i've been working on a random patchwork 

made of scraps from another project.

i like the proportions and style of

this tote, (a promotional piece from a bookseller's chain), 

and so am using it as a template.

i'm piecing one single long rectangle that will

create the front, bottom and back.

the two sides and bottom will also be

 one continuous piece.

i guess i'll have to devise a binding

to tidy up the seams where everything

will be joined.

i'm torn between machine quilting the piece,

or trying something different.

i love the bold hand stitching on these bags.

maybe some thick, squash colored embroidery floss?

opinions?

results

To restore order means to liberate oneself

from the spell of what seems,

and to come back to what is.

-Henri Tracol

dearest readers, i hope i have not caused your eyes 

to glaze over with all these posts about cleaning

and sorting and tossing.

i am simply astounded by the release of 

a wee heaviness in my spirit,

and the discovery of new energy and insights

as i pare down and organize my life.

as i examine what i tolerate, 

and what i envision,

and how to get from here to there,

i wonder, what advice might you have for me?

food for thought

examine what you tolerate.

I first saw this phrase on Pinterest, and tracked down it's origins here.

For days, I've been exploring the nuances of these words. 

I became so intrigued that I started to write a list

of what I tolerate.

 Then I've considered why I tolerate something,

(maybe there's a good reason!)

whether perhaps I shouldn't tolerate something,

and how I might change some of the things I tolerate.

That pile of paperwork at the top of this post?

GONE, by tomorrow morning at 9! 

Promise.

;-)

sorting, pitching, still!

know how sometimes before things get better,

they get really, really messy?

today, for a few precious minutes, 

i have found refuge in a quiet corner.

a ritual that makes sense

the crisp and clear and energizing days of autumn

 have been slow in coming

to our neck of the woods in southern new england.

the ambitious monday morning "to do"list 

i started out with has fizzled 

in the weariness and humidity of the late afternoon.

when in doubt, i say,

have tea and a snack on the porch.

and hope that tomorrow dawns

with a chill. 

letting go of the past

the autumn light in our bedroom is so translucent and temporary this morning.

We have moved from closets on to the basement, a large space, filled with the accumulation of 15 years of living with and raising four children in this house. Some things are obviously and sadly, for the transfer station. I hate to think of all the stuff that will go who-knows-where, a reflection of our irresponsibility to our planet. We have been sobered by this reality. 

Lots and lots of the stuff has been cleaned up and sorted for a big tag sale. There are roller blades, lots of kitchenware, picture frames, some furniture, holiday decorations and boxes of games.There's even a pile for the thrift shop in Vermont...a walker and cane, left over from my knee replacements five years ago. 

Some items, when held in hand, require decisions...sentiment vs. our desire for a cleaner, more pared down life. It actually feels good to push the limits of attachment, and set something in the tag sale pile. There has been the sharp intake of breath and the heart squeeze, when some sweet memory has been stirred. But memories will serve us better than the actual thing that inspired the memory. There are a few things that we are saving, and their pile looks like a curated display, these things we will need in our next chapter. 

This is a year full of transitions for us. Being in the midst of the reality of realizing a dream has felt invigorating and exhausting at the very same time. It is good work to be doing, this letting go of the past to walk into the future.

I am curious. How do you manage stuff? Do you live with stuff in closets or an attic or basement? Or do you live with just essentials? Or do you live somewhere in between?

equinox

i cast on yarn that reminds me of bracken, 

ferns that have lost their gentle fronds,

that have dried and bent back into the earth,

a far cry from their bright green fiddleheads of the spring.

balsamic-poached figs,

(recipe in october issue of whole living magazine)

resting in the fridge for an evening when

a roasted chicken and a puddle of polenta

might call out for them.

autumn.

the best of all.

welcome, sweetness.