Category: Making

This is How We Do It. ‘Tis the Season.

I guess each and every one of us has our own experience and perspective. My perspective is one of myth and fairytale. Drawing names for gift giving and putting heart and soul into creating handmade gifts of wood, clay, wax, paints and pencils and wool threads, paper and fabric, each item made with a particular person in mind.

We’re grateful for a warm place to bake and for creating special foods. We invite family and friends to sit at our table and around the cozy fire. We read books and share stories and warming drinks.

During the season we gather evergreen boughs and leaves and branches with berries from parks to make wreaths and garlands to decorate the house and to give away. We hide small gifts and candy to fill the stockings for Jul morning and pretend the elves have visited through the night.

We’ve spent hours creating our special gifts, hiding them behind our backs if someone passes by unexpectedly. We don’t even share who’s name we’ve drawn… so there’s an air of anticipation… if John drew my name, I might get a painting or something sculpted of wood. If it’s Ivan, I might get a bonsai, if it’s Laura, maybe a knitted scarf or small bottles of homemade bitters. If it’s Joannah, there’s a million possibilities, and from Jerald, handmade candles or a handbraided dog leash or something of leather. From me, someone will get something knitted or a hand-made book.

We use hand decorated brown paper for wrappings and jute ribbons or recycled papers and ribbons from last year and hand cut paper snowflakes. Cards are made from John’s lino-cut designs, or made from recycled cards I recieved last year, repurposed for this year. This year I bought some from UNICEF.

I’m an anti-theist, if a label is required. God doesn’t play into the season, for me. I love the magic of stringing lights and singing and bringing a tree in the house… a tradition that pre-dates what we now call Christmas, Xmas, etc.

I dont care what other people do. If they want to celebrate as they’re told by media advertisements and to go into debt and to get stressed during October, November and December, they can go ahead. I don’t care. We’ll be over here creating and welcoming the darker, colder days with good cheer. This is how we welcome the ending of this year and the beginning of the new with family and friends.

I understand the bah humbug spirit pervasive in society. There’s good reason, of course, but for me it’s deeper and richer and full of meaning. There is the harvest, then the darker and colder season that engulfs us all as we turn away from the sun for some months.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that I also know that there are the less fortunate who don’t have the ability to create such warmth and good cheer, and for that I lament. We’ll do what we can.

And So the Day Begins.

This morning I sauteed, left over from last night’s dinner, potatoes and sauerkraut in a little sunflower oil. When the potatoes were nice and hot, I cracked 2 eggs on top. I made a latte with almond milk. Now I’m indulging in a small bite of the leftover chocolate cake I made yesterday, with my latte.

It’s a beautiful sunny day that promises to be 70ﾟ. For sure Yum Yum will want to go out for a walk today. I’ll breathe and meditate and wash dishes and knit. In the morning, what bothers me in the evening, seems far away. I know that the super moon and the lunar eclipse have been making me feel dis-ease.

The heavy rains yesterday were so refreshing and things are super green and lush this morning, having had huge gulps of water.

For an early dinner, I will heat up my creamy meatball soup with sticky rice. And I’ll ignore that once again I’m making a sweater, though measured carefully, will be too small for me. My next sweater I will make oversized and perhaps then I will realize my true size.

Yesterday, while watching a podcast of a woman who is 65 but has the body of someone 40 or 50, I realized that I need to begin to brush my skin with a natural bristle brush every day. This used to be my routine which I have left behind. It’s time to once again call it forward. I will continue to oil my body but I’m going to add hair oil to my routine, as well. I’ve never had oily hair nor have I had dry hair but I’m thinking that my scalp and my hair need some nourishment, too.

Yum Yum is laying at my feet whimpering. She’s so impatient when it comes to her walk. And so the day begins.

Memories and Scraps of Leather

Memories and Scraps of Leather
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Handmade purse and sandals

When we were married, Jack used to make leather goods, that included purses and sandals. He started to sell them when the Rose Festival Center was in the park across from the Lloyd Center Mall. It was probably 50 years ago.

What I have left of these is this purse he made for Mom and the tiny, little sandals he made for Hannah.

I clearly can recall the smell of leather, dye, Lexol and rubber cement. His workshop was set up in our small front room and a stump was installed where he cut and hammered and finished his handmade goods.

Scraps of leather and tools were scattered all about. His fingers and the floor were stained with shades of warm browns, soft reds and black and deepest blues.

I was the blessed recipient of purses, belts and sandals and small wallets of latigo and soft suede of many colors.

I miss that workshop that was our tiny house. I miss the sounds and the smells and Jack’s ability to create works of art from leather.

And this is what life is made of, memories and scraps of leather.