Transformation & Hope - Parts 7, 8 & 9

 

For some unexplained reason once I started on the last 23 rounds that made up Parts 7, 8 and 9, I did not stop until I reached the end. It was not a flurry of activity, drop everything and get 'er done effort, rather a steady, methodical work that filled evenings watching baseball, restful afternoons after mornings of outside labor, and one day listening to the rain fall during a September vacation.

The work was easier - straight rows down four sides of the square which, once started on a single stitch pattern repeated itself from corner to corner. No repeats of four or eight or 16 as in the center circle and star work. No need to check check check the pattern. Quick and fluid the yarn slipped from the skein into the finished product.

I wonder now, with the quiet and calm completion of the blanket how I have been transformed over this last year, or if my easy hope has returned from where it has taken itself to hide.

Decidedly there is movement "across, beyond, through and on the other side of" many things: family celebrations; beginning my sixth decade; personal self-reflection and examination; creative endeavors outside this project; planting and reaping, editing and amending, tending our house, our place. Living the verb form of trans, where creation, building and devising reside, is natural to me: I do create, make, construct and devise all day long. This is my center, the me that ignites joy and maps my life.

The noun of form, however, is harder to examine. I have changed my shape - lost 25 pounds, let my hair grow, tried new pieces in my wardrobe. Our family is a different shape now with new people joining it. The old house is getting new windows; our field will bloom with 1,500 daffodils in the spring; more fences are coming down.

Has my character changed this last year? Undoubtedly. I am Sixty and I am uncertain how to be this new character of crone, hag, witch - not the insulting words, rather the complimentary nuances of the old meanings and origins: Crone - an abusive word meaning carrion, a dead thing, newly reclaimed as a symbol of mature female wisdom; Hag - a word applied only to women the origin of which is close to diviner or soothsayer; Witch - convoluted and confused throughout time and across languages, its origin containing hints of healer and holy, tinged with knowledge of herbs and healing. I also sense a new fragility in my psyche and body, stamina and strength.

There also has welled up, or let loose, anger and cynicism in me, a dark hope and expectation, as delusion runs rampant in the US and the world. The ongoing onslaught of political and military lies from two men on opposite sides of the world, intent on tearing us apart, prodding wounds and gloating over the bleeding for self-gain and perceived glory - authoritarianism raises its head above horizon close to home and is celebrated welcomed. 

These things these things these things sit like an ache on me.

The hope-that-hides resurfaces occasionally as I strive to live more from my core, my being, my center. I do not always know what this is, this center; however, I am finding it, feeling my way inward downward upward outward stretching to a lighter place.

And what is hope, really? An expectation of a good or better outcome? optimism? 

This year of meditation while transforming the light of the sun into a blanket warm compels me to deny these easy definitions. It is deeper, personal, rooted in my past, tied up in my present, a brief flame illuminating my future, lighting a way forward. Hope is not easy any longer, and this is a deep deep transformation. Digging down and out and up to grasp hope, that spark of light, requires strength and will, contemplation and fearlessness. 

Hope is work, and it is not easy.

Finished stats on the blanket:

Size: 60" x 60"
Weight: 3.25 lbs
Stitch count: 53,198
Start: November 2021
End: October 2022

Transformation & Hope - Part 6

Almost a lifetime has passed since I last mused on this year's Transformation & Hope project. In the intervening time we managed a long-delayed vacation to Orkney and a wedding. Intertwined with these events was months of rain and more rain. Talk about some transforming activities since March!

Undoubtedly the project is now a square. Each of the corners was crocheted independently of the other during this stage; the next stage sees me working once again around the perimeter without a break at the corners.

I worked each of the 13 rows at one time, repeating the stitches of the row at each of the four corners. This was somewhat jarring after the 77 rows of wending my way around the center still point, north star, epicenter. To take out my crochet needle, find the corner, start and end anew was fiddly and different, less contemplative and more structured, aligned, marching. I suppose this is how transformation works as well, moving from a rough field to pasture and wheat requires precision and work, planning and scheming, measuring and lifting the plow.

The rain has also been transforming - green wheat fields are yellowed from the water, planes flying overhead to spray fungicide to save crops, floods down Main Streets in towns and sandbags a common site. Our lawn is still green - that never happens in July! I am just getting the grass pulled out of the perennial borders as it has gone wild in the rain. No lilac this year either; the rain did them in.

It was the 9th wettest May on record here in the last 128 years. That's a lot of rain.

The flip side of transformation and this project is, of course, hope. I HOPE that the next stage of the mandala, when I work it in a full, non-stopping square, begins to find a contemplative rhythm once again, building itself around the still point.

I HOPE the crops do well with the rain and provide a stellar yield for our farmers and their families.

I HOPE the lilacs didn't drown, and I look forward in hope to next May for the annual glorious blooms and fragrance, a season indelibly printed on my lifetime. And Lilac Beer.

I also HOPE I can whack back the out of control grasses and weeds in the garden borders before it gets too hot and dry! And I HOPE some of the vegetables bear fruit.

The photo on the right doesn't look so square, and the colors are really washed out - blame the camera person who couldn't hold her phone at a flat angle and the LED lights that cast a strange color glow over the room.

Wedding Quilt 2022

 

It has been a long time since I've posted a finished quilt, and here is one at last! This is the 2022 Wedding Quilt for a son and lovely wife. The Celtic Knot weaves his "hot" colors of yellow and orange with her "cool" colors of green and blue. This is going to be a good match as the opposites attract, interlock and make the knot secure.

The wave pattern background was completed by Eaglecrest Designs. Thank you, Gerry. It was exactly what the quilt needed to tie it all together.

Thurso to Glasgow

We left Thurso on the 8:30 am train to Glasgow, a 7- hour,  276 mile ride that required two train changes. The leg that ended in Inverness was uncrowded and new to our eyes. Snapping photos through the train window while hurdling through space was giggle inducing for us old Americans.

The trains from Inverness to Glasgow were crowded and we faced backward so photos were really challenging. 

I finally took a photo in our luxurious hotel room. We were mysteriously upgraded to a corner suite on the 6th floor and it was very nice, except for the dirty windows. 

 

Tomorrow we head to the airport for the Covid test and then board the plane for home. Not certain how I feel as these days away have been refreshing and restful. Eager to be home and see what's happening in the garden, and whether Cat stuck around. Less eager to return to work. Ah well, I still have a few days to get my mojo back. 

Sanday to Thurso

We began the 2-day trip back to Glasgow today, and the day started with a setting moon, glorious sunrise, friendly chicken farmer at the ferry and smooth sailing to Kirkwall.

The tweed hatted farmer was on his way to Mainland for new poultry stock as he supplies Sanday with most of its eggs. The global avian flu pandemic has touched this Sanday farmer, and he is trying to bolster the health of his flock.

The Byre at Ayres Rock Hostel on Sanday.

We turned in our trusty rental car at Kirkwall. What a lifesaver this vehicle has been for us, hauling provision and treasure, shelter from the wind, transport to remote sites. Before turning it in, we filled it up. This price equates to $5.60 per gallon. 

We chatted with a professional vagabond at the bus stand while waiting for our ride to Stromness. He is retired and dog sits for people across the globe. He also attends music and dance festivals and competes in swing dance competitions. So many ways to live a life.

Stromness is an old town with "a shambles" like main street full of pedestrians, cars, homes and businesses. The streets were wide enough for one car, so when one approached, we had to duck into a shop dorway or close or alley to save our lives!

I took the photo above as the street name interested me; the flag flying in the back is the flag of Orkney.

We eventually boarded the Northlink ferry to Scrabster on mainland Scotland. Compared to the ferries we've been on, this one is a cruise ship! Cushy seats, restaurant and bar, gift shop, kids' play area. 

A view of Stromness as we left the pier.

We sailed around the western edge of  the Isle of Hoy. One of its famous attractions is the Old Man of Hoy, a sandstone sea stack.

The ferry arrived in Scrabster and we had to scramble to find a ride / taxi / bus into Thurso a few miles away. As luck would have it, a family with three children had been on the same travel path as us since the Sanday ferry. They were able to arrange a taxi, but it would only carry four of them, so we  hailed the single passing cab and shared it with the mom.

Today was full of these extraordinary encounters; I always enjoy chance meetings of this kind and the opportunity to glean shared experience with another.

Orkney - Isle of Sanday 2

This last true day of vacation was gloriously sunny and full of white sand beaches, blue ocean and skies and the firecracker shots of rocks rolling in the surf.

Whitemill Beach is in the northern part of Sanday. The color is astounding. If I didn't know it was a bit cool, I would think this is in the tropics.

Not the tropics for certain!

The color!

Cata Sands and Tressness in the east. We only made it about halfway of the six mile walk.

Stark Lighthouse in the northeast. It is possible to walk to the lighthouse at low tide; we elected to not do this after last evening's tramp to the Holms of Ire. You can see the tidal race between the mainland and the lighthouse. Another beautiful white beach leads to the lighthouse.

After this we went back to Bill MacArthur's studio for a chat and to settle our bill for the seascape paintings and shipping.

Sanday has been a treat. With 530 residents on an island with 98 square miles of land this place has been welcoming and full of surprise. We stayed at a hostel which was once a byre (attached cowshed) to an old farmhouse.

We brought food with us from Kirkwall to prepare in the hostel kitchen. We found this wasn't necessary as there is a well-stocked store on the island. Regular restaurant and pub hours, however, do not exist, and I fear some establishments did not make it through the pandemic.

Orkney - Isle of Sanday 1

We headed for our last island on the early ferry. The day started rainy and cold in Kirwall, so the ferry ride seemed a bit "swayish" to me, with the ferry tipping and dipping its way north.

Sanday is aptly named as this island features white sand beaches, sand dunes, sand spits, sand roads, and all things sand. Our first adventure was to the studio of artist Bill MacArthur on the Norwa', the last point of inhabitation on Sanday, where we gabbed with the artists and purchased orignal art work to be shipped home.

Then, you guessed it, Quoyness Chambered Cairn, our last cairn on the trip. The walk out to Elsness Peninsula was glorious with curious seals keeping us company the whole way.

After lunch and a quick stop at the Sinclair Shop for supplies we headed northwest to the Holms of Ire. There are two Holms that reach out into the ocean, accessible when the tide is low. We ambled across a farmer's pasture and visited with the Shetland ponies, then scurried across a rock strewn "beach" to the farthest holm. The sun was out, the sea spectacular, the sky blue, the wind blowing away the care and cobwebs of the last few years.

Each Holm featured a monument cairn except the last, so I built one. You can see mine in the foreground the the other two in the far distance.

Orkney - Day 7

We planned to attend Easter services at St. Magnus Cathedral this morning; however, the Covid-19 restrictions in place (proof of vaxx, contract tracing info, limited to the first 100 people)  seemed too onerous so we drove up to the Broch of Gurness instead.

Yesterday on Rousay we visited Midhowe; just across Eyenhallow Sound sits Gurness. This broch is different in that it includes the village of houses and workshops that surrounded the broch, the defensive ditches, and a Pict dwelling.

It was strangely eery to walk the passageways of the village, step into the houses of people who once inhabited the space. The stones are all covered in white - calcium or lichen? - and the whole space resembles a graveyard.

After a stroll across the bay to another broch site, this one disturbed by farming, we headed back into Kirkwall and a tour of St. Magnus Cathedral.

I'm not certain what happened to the stained glass window for St. James the Elder - with all the amazing colored windows his stark colorless window certainly stands out.

Orkney - The Isle of Rousay

 

Happy Easter 2022! We met this pair in a churchyard near Midhowe Broch  on Rousay yesterday. The little one was still wobbly kneed.

For all the churches closed on Friday, it was a strange contrast Saturday that all the Neolithic sites were open. I suppose not so many people enjoy crawling around in burial cairns, or perhaps, they are simply better cared for because so many people DO like crawling around in them!

We visited four Neolithic Stalled Cairns on Rousay, all of which were accessible. They are stunning examples of the ingenuity, creativity and drive alive in humans since the dawn of time. All the cairns were constructed 3,500 years ago and consisted of "stalls" where bodies were laid, ashes were placed and bones collected over the millennia, a testament to the honor and care of ancestors and deceased.

Some photos:

These cairns were capped with concrete roofs containing sky lights. While this preserves the stone building, it also promotes the growth of alga and lichen in the damp and sunlight.

Beautiful resting place; the fog was low and the walks misty.

Most of the day was spent at Midhowe Chambered Cairn, Midhowe Broch, Midhowe Farm, St. Mary's Church, Viking farm ruins and an 18th century farm ruins.

Midhowe Cairn is known as The Great Ship of Death. Covered by a hangar, the site has catwalks so that tourists can view the chambers and experience the magnitude of the site.

The Broch constructed in about 1100 by the farmer who worked the fields here. Perhaps Sigurd from the Orkneyinga Sagas.

As the walls of the broch began to slide, heavy slabs were set against the slipping wall - on the left - as buttresses.

The entire seascape around the broch is this slabbed stone, clay laid down in the seabed of the great Orcadian Sea in the Devonian Period, similar to our own Lake Bonneville.

We didn't make it to Eynehallow, the mysterious disappearing island. Here is video of the tidal race between Rousay and Eynehallow.

Midhowe Farm, perhaps farmed by Sigurd.

St. Mary's Church, desperately close to falling into the sea, the site of the lamb birthing.

Skaill Farm with an excavation of a possible Viking Long House in the front.

An example of a bere kiln, typical of all Orkney farms of the period. Bere is a form of multi-row barley which had to be dried in order to perserve it for porridge, bread and brewing.

We drove out to the Shop on Rousay for souvenirs; it is closed on Saturdays.