Slow Felt

I have been working on this piece for over a month now off and on, and it's funny how it changes every time I come back to it. I felted and fulled wool roving to make the 12 x 14 piece, and I'm adding crewel wool stitches to "quilt" a pattern like Mongolian rugmakers do: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aeu4pbtQuEE.

This past weekend was sunny and cool, so I took some time to sit out on the back deck and stitch. I initially used embroidery floss to form the golden circles, but the weight was just wrong. The wool puckered into little peaks, which is a nice effect that I'll file away for later use.

But when I used the crewel wool, I knew I had found just the right thread. The felted fabric lays just right and has a nicely solid texture. I spent most of my sewing time pulling out stitches, so this piece is definitely turning out to be "slow cloth."

It's interesting how the colors are just the ones I'm seeing now in the woods--golden grasses and leaves, the crimson of barns and gates and leaves, and blue sky amidst the remaining green.

How have you captured the fall colors?

Noticing

My friend Margie at Resurrection Fern has been documenting her glorious fall in southern Canada in visual poetry. In one of her recent posts, she asked what her readers are noticing. The post encouraged me to finally stop at a place I have been noticing just from the window of my passing car. Every day, several times a day, I pass a dam bordered by a thick cluster of trees that have been in full fall color for the last few weeks. Each time I pass the textured mass of orange, gold, and red, I vow to stop and try to take photos. I finally stopped to walk around and enjoy the views, though a recent heavy rain had knocked some of the fullness from the trees.

I noticed the regular pattern of dew on leaves. It reminded me of the pebbled skin of a lizard.

I noticed the golden leaves blown like kites caught upright in a sudden gust.

I noticed a staircase to a tree lit golden by the morning sun.

I noticed myself enjoying my life and the people in it.

DIY Calendar

I'm so excited to show you my first attempt at the DIY 2011 zencrafting calendar. I printed out the pages on 4 X 6 premium photo paper on my inkjet printer at home, and I couldn't be happier with the quality. I bound the pages using the ring binding off an old notebook. It's a wee thing and should work well to keep in my purse or on my crowded desk. It's a reminder to take joy from every day and share it with the ones you love. 

Click on the links in my sidebar to print out your own calendar or daybook and let me know how yours turns out!

Zencrafting Calendar and Daybook

Lately I have been trying to take stock of the last two years of this zencrafting blog. I've been looking back at what I've written and photographed and am trying to compile them into something tangible. My first stab at a zencrafting compilation is in calendar form. I've put together some of the photographs I've taken for the blog over the past two years into a daybook for the remainder of 2010 and a calendar for 2011.

You can download them and print them for your own non-commercial use by clicking on the links (the text, not the thumbnail) in the sidebar at right. I'll be experimenting with getting the calendars printed professionally. If you are interested in purchasing a 2011 zencrafting calendar, please leave a comment here. And I'd be interested in hearing your feedback about the calendar design or other issues.

Thanks for visiting and making this such a special place for me.

Autumn in the Maryland Piedmont

It was one of those gorgeous, sunny fall days that made me happy that I had to get out of bed this morning.

I had insomnia last night, and I was just getting started on my sleep when the kids woke up. I didn't think I had energy to do anything but the bare minimum this morning.

But after dropping off my son at preschool, I had about half an hour to wait for the library to open. I noticed some playing fields behind the library and thought I could get in a quick walk. A paved path led through a wetlands area that had been restored and planted with grasses. Ducks bobbed on the pond, and the grasses waved in the breeze. Across the highway, farm buildings were laid out on a carpet of mowed green fields and faded gold ones.

The colors were subtle, and I had to walk slowly to appreciate the pointed ends of the dried seed pods and the woven interplay of waving grass heads. Jimson weed flowers bloomed light violet and close to the ground. I felt grateful for the view, near and far, and my energy was restored.

After a quick stop at the library, I took the long way to the gas station, past my favorite stone house. I passed a flock of sheep grazing lazily in a pasture.

Down the road, I noticed an abandoned farmhouse tucked behind overgrown hedges. I had to dodge trucks on the narrow country lane to get close to it, but the sense of absolute stillness there was worth the effort. The house felt like it was waiting quietly--perhaps for someone to sand and paint those rough boards, replace the tin roof, and make it a home again. (More photos at my Flickr photostream, Piedmont Fall set.)

Hope your errands were as much of an adventure as mine were.

Cranberry and Gold

Is there anything more cheerful than a bunch of mums in the morning sun, dew-sprinkled?

Before the mum's petals open, they are small cranberry flames. That unique combination of cranberry and gold (and olive, too), as Lisa of Lil Fish Studios points out, that blazes in the fall fields and forests.

The mums glow with a gentle fire. I am hoarding their flames like glowing coals to see me through the coming winter.

Fields of Gold

Last week saw our last glorious days of Indian summer, when the sun lit up roadside grasses.

Near our house, a field slopes down to a fenced valley, and the grasses wave delicate purple tops against the sky.

I love the humility of bowed, bristly heads.