Small hopeful things

 

This week I was able to hem some pants. Hooray! Got excited and

went through my cloth suitcase. After surgery I hope to be

able to hand sew like before. Enough of the stick, this is the carrot. 

 

Bob's planting the kitchen tomatoes. By July 4 most years. The big garden is

for canning. These are closer to my salt shaker. 

 

I decided to bury the last of mom's ashes under the Cherry tree

to the right of the birdbath. Now I can walk out and say

hello and know she's in a beautiful place near me.

Creating hope in this world is important.

From hand to hand

Two creatures live in my china hutch. My grandmother and I made them
over 50 years ago.  She was a tailor for many ladies in town and
shared the buttons, fabric and beads left over from their dresses. More important
she shared her time and taught me to thread a needle and how to use it.
Here is a doll we made from ticking stripe and dressed in scraps of fabric.

Gathering the neckline with a running stitch, brand new skill for me!

The turtle is very fancy with his pearls and rhinestone, isn't he?
 I  remember folding the rick rack over the edge and sewing it down. 

Here is my sweet, talented grandmother, Hattie Mae.

Two steps forward, one step back

That is how spring comes along this year. 

I watch for more green. Blossoms take my breath away.

Fat bees appear. Birds are back with lots of song.

The breath of the world, the wind, makes trees dance.

 

 

On the other hand

 Well, some days Mr Parkinson is a bad guest; causing tremors and imbalance,
taking  all of my courage and patience, laughing at my 'to do' list.  I have heard
that chronic illness can be a spiritual teacher. Some days it's just a bully.

I can still weave stories even if I can't sew much anymore. Anything involving both
hands is a joke. My right arm/hand is steady as long as I'm painting. This keeps me
hopeful.