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Sunday, February 22, 2015

It Started Like This

The moment I began to stitch down the built in flap on the newest comfort cloth, 
a phrase jumped into my head. 

"It started with a scar".

That is what came to mind, but then I considered that things cannot begin with a scar.
There must be a wound first, yes?
Because a scar is really a healing.

The scar
What is curious to me is that I began this part with the idea to hold that flap down, 
so it does not get in the way of whatever comes next.    A technical step?  Or control.
And I chose a color that is almost hidden, because one cannot always see the scar of another.  Or can we?
Then I thought maybe (green) stitches should come out between the stitches.  Because there is always room or opportunity for growth, right?!  
Then I piled a bunch of stitches on top of one another, because sometimes a scar is thick over a deep wound.
I've done maybe a quarter of the length on the scar and it has already become a metaphor for so much.  I love how cloth does that.

Dyed and Scarred
I also relaxed in the scar stitching, letting go of perfection for perfect little lines. 
I lumped stitches, making kind of long 'thread beads' (Jude style).  
And I did random, quick stitches...some longer than their neighbor.  
A sort of whip stitch as Cindy recently mentioned.

I began this cloth because I knew I needed to.
Because there were questions that may not have answers.
It has already been a comfort to work on, a comfort to hold.
*Note: I am fascinated that the white manufacturer's stitches have stayed very white through the dye process.  I wonder why?  I notice how they stand out in strong contrast to the cloth itself and to the first stitches of mine.


In other 'scar' news...
Our apricot tree, the one we adore...
the one with the best tasting apricots in the world...
Yes, that one.
It has scars of its own.  It has been roughly pruned by others and gardeners.  last year, you may remember that we did not get one edible apricot.
This year we know why.
The tree, in beautiful bloom is dying.
It is soft, hollow sounding.


But, it still is beautiful and filled with more and more blooms and buds each day.
We don't really think it can be saved.
He says we could push it right over with one hand.
We will have to do something about this.


It makes us so sad.

We have history together, this tree and us.


But, it has its own scars, that may not heal.

And it has had unwelcome visitors.



I don't think our rains this weekend will help.
(((sigh)))

Another part of life, I suppose.

I hope your week is filled with whip stitched living,
~Nancy

Photos by Nancy A. Erisman ©2015  

4 comments:

Ms. said...

Every scar tells a story
every scar is a healing
every healing is a memoir
every memoir is a fiction
Every fiction is a truth

Plant a new Apricot near the old one, just not too near.

Peggy said...

Nancy, I liked your process with stitch here. Things always evolve, don't they?

When a tree is dying, it gives a last big push to flower and fruit and even sucker to continue itself. Survival. xo

grace Forrest~Maestas said...

the old grandmother apricot here is
experiencing something. for a couple
years now. i have a small sense of
dread to see what remains of Her this
spring. She is the only real Sitting
Under Shade Tree here. Without Her
Everything will change.

You stitching and sensitivity to
the Becoming cloth is very FINE
Big Love

Nancy said...

Michelle~ Lovely words you leave here. I would plant another, but there is not room in this spot.

Peggy~ I would love it if it suckered itself! The landlord says it is about 40 years old. It will be missed.

Grace~ Yes, things will change for both of us. Our tree is the only near the house shade tree. Becoming cloth...smile. Big Love back.