I said thank you

On Sunday I visited Dad and he was in the middle of something.  He was going to see a woman about a movie and was by the door so I opened it for him and we went out.  He told me just to wait a few minutes, he'd be back.  I said OK and found some shade and took out my stitching and he rolled his wheels away from me with his hands very slowly, getting stuck now and then.

He has dementia and I haven't had a real conversation with him for months and months.  Granted, I didn't see him during the ealry part of the summer when I had that broken leg, but now I try to go in every other day.  He knows me, but exactly who he thinks I am varies.

During today's visit I told him that I had just come from paying the rent for my studio and was planning to start working there again.  He asked me how much was the rent, and then told me that he had a space he'd like me to have for free.  Does it have high ceilings? I asked and it did.  He said it would please him very much if he could give it to me, so I said thank you.

New Year's Eve

The Hogmanay (New Year’s Eve) was celebrated with greater enthusiasm than Christmas in Scotland. This blessing was said on New Year’s eve after the house was cleaned.

Hogmanay Blessing

The blessing of God upon this house.
The blessing of Jesus upon this house.
The blessing of the Spirit upon this house.
The blessing of Brighid upon this house.
The blessing of Michael upon this house.
The blessing of Mary upon this house.
The blessing of Columba upon this house.
On man and woman
On spouse and child
On old and young
On maiden and youth
With plenty of food
And plenty of drink
With plenty of beds
And plenty of ale
With many riches
And much cheer
With many kin
And length of life
Ever upon it.

Slow

I don’t know about you but when I read a poem, even a short poem, I have to slow right down and think about it. I have to read the words over and over and consider what the poet is saying. If perhaps s/he might mean something else in addition to the obvious. I appreciate the metaphors used in poetry. I think that my quilts are like poems because of the slowness they demand from the viewer. Yes, the hand stitching gives visible evidence of the amount of time spent making them, but also, it is slow work to appreciate them.

Hallelujah

We went to the Cafe In The Woods last night to hear Ian Tamblyn. I was very moved by Ian's songs that express a profound interconnection with the environment, animals, light, history, and the spiritual grace of being alive. During the last half of the performance the audience was treated to a slide exhibition of Ian's beautiful photographs of the arctic.