Heavenly Blue Shibori

These beautiful samples of shibori dyeing are from John Kubiniec of Big Rig Quilting. A client and friend, John just started his long arm quilt finishing business this spring. He was recently tapped by McCalls Patterns for their next Great Designer Competition. Visit his blog here for more of his work and details about what he does. It was fun to work on his logo and now on to his website.

Moonlight Sonata in my pocket

The place that inspired Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.

Years ago I discovered during a period of great sadness, that the color blue has a powerful uplifting effect on me. Is it because of blue skies? I have a few pieces of jewelry and clothing I wear purposefully for this reason. One is a pocket watch I emptied and put one of Paul's photos in. This photo was taken from a ferry, looking across the Balaton Lake in Hungary. The body of water that inspired Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Taken with velvia film and Paul's handmade lens this image hasn't been adjusted in Photoshop. It came out of the camera this way. Apparently this body of water is filled with minerals, is a turquoise green during the day and is filled with some unusual fish. It's also known for plenty of thunder storms. What I love about it is the feeling of hope and moving through the storms nearby.

Moonlight Sonata in a pocket.

Poem for Monday

I tried really hard to embrace the gray this morning. It looks like we're sandwiched between 5 days of rain. I think I'll go for the blue this week. This is a poem my dear of dears, Pat Hegnauer wrote for me when I took her to one of the most beautiful places I know, mid coast Maine. When we have a few summer rainy days in a row, I tend to yearn for Maine's big clear blue skies. Maine resident Eric Hopkins, painter of countless coastal islands there, captures the color and my heart ache for "Vacationland" This painting is called Three Points and more of his work can be found here.

Blueberry Girl

-Pat Hegnauer
The blueberry girl coos
and ruffles her breast to nest
and hatch remembrance
of Grandmother's geography;
maple mountains, cedar seas,
and spiced stands of balsam.

Standing rocky yards away
from the Pemaquid light
she glows bright at eventide,
casts her memory fore and aft
in shadows of the deep rills
and channeled ocean slabs.

She hunts miles on thin roads
for sea-lavender and scallops,
picks lobster from her smile,
bathes in the chamomile stars
cascading down the wide
black northern nights.

Her family bones are tangled
deep in stoney soil and fierce farms,
hunkered on the salty slopes,
and grassy dells patched in forests
greening to the bouldered bays
where inlets wait for tides and sky.