It's me

It's me who begins to cry or needs to lie down or put my face into the wind. 

My emotions overwhelm me.  I become weepy or cranky.

Are you alright? the kids ask

I'm fine.  It's just hard for me to put a meal on the table these days, I say to them.  

We need to eat outside because we are still distancing ourselves, but it's not the meal that does it.

Not really.

It's all the other things going on.  The travel to England for one.

The Air Canada lady says that Pearson airport is worse than we can imagine and to get there 4 hours before a flight rather than 3.

I don't want to face that airport;  Ned and I leave on Monday.

He watches me, so wobbly most of the time.  If I ask, he hugs me and says "it'll be fine". 

I played board games with the boys and lost.  There was lots of teasing.  I am a good grand mom.  

(It's not every meal.  Most of them are fine.)

I say to myself "You're fine!"  

But it's me.  It's not them.  

I read Maria Popova's newsletter.  Recently, she wrote about the writer, Iris Murdoch.

Murdoch understood that we act out a 'middle - emotion' because it is too complex, contradictory, and category-defying for us to know what we are really feeling.  Unwilling to fully live into what we are, (anxious, uncertain, tender and terrified creatures), we act ourselves into being, costumed in false certitude. 

I turn to the large soft organic cotton quilt I've nearly finished.  

It's a real thing and it is very fine.

grandmothering in Alaska

 Time is the most valuable thing we possess.

The 8 year old bakes with me.

The eleven year old sets up the explorers version of Catan.
(Notice his baby quilt as wall art)

 I have started to sew the borders for Maia's quilt while visiting her cousins in Alaska.

We have been enjoying the sunny days.
The backyard sauna.
The neighbours. (and jamming with them)
Thanksgiving dinner.
The chickens.
The wildness near by.

Jack and I take turns drawing in my journal.
(my favourite grandmother activity)

The light at dusk is violet.
The mountains visible through the windows.

I am not myself

I was not myself.

So who do you think you are then?

Think again.

Whatever it was, was trying to tell me to do things, not exactly for any reasons but just to see if such acts were possible.

Motives were not necessary.

It was only necessary to give in.

How strange.

The birds began to stir, and then to sing, as if each of them had thought of it separately, up there in the trees.  They woke far earlier than I would have thought possilbe.

People have thoughts they'd sooner not have.
It happens a lot.

All text by Alice Munro from Dear Life collection of short stories
All images from 2010 file on one of our trips to Alaska to visit the grand children. (the completed piece is here)

Just because this is how I feel today.
I am not myself.
And I just found out that Alice Munro and I have the same birth day and I am enjoying this book quite a bit and my hard drive is plugged in and it's spring. xo.

my alaska family

jack's badge that he designed,

indigo being transplanted by oona

oona with the japanese indigo 

sun shade, leaf compost, watering

jack's stitches

portraits

We have had some lovely visits with Oona and the boys this summer.  Love them so much.

The family re-locates to Alaska at the end of next week.

Anchorage Museum

The Anchorage Museum has recently had a beautiful addition and rennovation done. We enjoyed the Smithsonian collection of Alaskan historic work. I was blown away by the waterproof parkas made from seal intestine.It was the transparency of the material and the care in the hand work. The horizontal lines dictated by the material itself. Also loved the basket work made from grass.

grand mother hand work

We live quite far away from these babes, and it is a real pleasure to spend time with them both. The 8 month old lets me feed him, and so does the nearly 4 year old, in a different way.

grand boys

We are visiting family in Anchorage this weekend.



Busy watching boulders being jumped off of, thresholds being crossed.

That's about it.

What's really important?

I have extended my time in Anchorage by one week. This extended visit means that I have had to postpone my teaching commitments. I emailed the women in my Tuesday art quilting class, and every single one of them agreed that what I am doing here is very important. My Wednesday piano students' parents concurred. I also had to postpone the Thursday start of the Manitoulin Circle Project until October 29. (see Judy's Updates) I do have a wince of guilt about this because it had been promoted in the Manitoulin Expositor.
This three year old mountain climber is one of the reasons I am staying a little longer. reverse applique

How to write poetry

"You have to give yourself up, and then recover yourself. The third moment is having something to say before you have wholly forgotten both the surrender and the recovery." T.S. Eliot

baby quilt

What is the correct size for a baby quilt? The one I made for Everett three years ago is 32 inches by 49 inches, perhaps a little narrow, perhaps a little long. I checked the internet and learned that there is no expected size - it depends on how you plan to use it. Everett dances on his quilt







and later Mr Moose slowly walked by the backyard.

waiting, walking

We went for a walk this morning, yellow leaves still falling like rain. We met a moose, which apparently is no big deal in Anchorage. Advice? Just be quiet for a while.

waiting

Our luggage took an extra day to arrive in Anchorage. The first thing I unpacked was this quilt that I brought to work on while Ned and I are here. I spread it out on the bed and petted it.


One of the things we've done while waiting for the new babe is visit nearby Goose Lake.

In Alaska

We're in Alaska.

Last week when she was ten

I had a nice phone chat with our daughter today. It was early in Anchorage, and she was helping our wee one get his own breakfast.

What he wore last night

Trick or Treat!



He loves trucks and cars and wheels and all working man type things. (like his dad).