- These are a few of my favorite things: The (creative) year in review

It's been a fun year ... easier to review because I've actually kept track for the most part. So here in chronological order (because I can't possible rank them) are a few of my favorite things ...

The continuation of ...

 the family sampler ...

My first (and probably only) attempt at mixed media collage ...

New paths around the house ...

Don's folk art fish and whale ...

The Homestead kitchen towel before the trees were added ...

A torn and tattered heart from Considering Weave ...

Plus a most unorthodox "loom" from the same ...

 Don's Beach or Mountains? assemblage ...

Crafting for a new grandchild ...

Weaving inserts for a pair of pants ...

Adding poetry to a kantha stitched top ...

Sewing/Sowing a peace flag for the Solace Project ...

Trying dyeing ...

Don's impressions of  New Mexico, going once ...

Twice ...

Three times ...

Exploring the utility of boro/kantha ...

and the joy of hand-lettering ...

Finally becoming the hippie I always wanted to be ...

and coining my own phrase for a change ...

Last, but not least, stitching a lullaby (not yet complete, so there will be something left to show in the new year) ...

- Mondegreens deliver us from eagles ...

I woke up with Kevin Welch singing ... too old to die young ... in my head. It's a cold, grey day, rain falling (a good thing), but I'm already pondering how I might stretch the food in the meagerly-stocked fridge until tomorrow. I'd rather stitch than drive ...

So this old world must still be spinning 'round ...

But what I really want to say is I'm still on a thought-train about hearing (see yesterday's post on My own personal soundtrack, which links to the previous day's post about peace-full music). Because even though I usually have the musical part of my personal soundtrack down pretty well, I'm pretty shaky when it comes to the lyrics. Which leads me to mondegreens ... the auditory equivalent of DYAC (which I like, strangely enough ... because I'm usually not big on four-letter words, but somehow find their unintentional use hilarious ... I'm sure therapy is in order here).

Side note: I have been asked repeatedly not to read Damn You Auto Correct in Don's presence since he finds my spontaneous bursts of laughter a tad bit disconcerting ... so of course, now I'm reading the DYAC link and Don is saying, "What are you reading?" to which I reply, tears in my eyes, "Damn You Auto Cucumber."

Ah well, you had to be there ...

Anyway, back to mondegreens, which are misheard or misinterpreted words and phrases ... that is to say, a large part of my life. The classic example (in addition to the many good ones in the Wikipedia article link above) is my memory of saying the Lord's Prayer in Sunday School at St. Andrew's in Williston Park, earnestly praying to "deliver us from eagles." The more mundane examples pertain to my misunderstanding normal everyday speech, substituting what I expect to hear for the speaker's intention ... which can make for some very puzzled looks. Add to that my all-too-frequent question to Don, "What did you say?" to which he usually responds, "I was singing."

Yes, well ... as I said, that's my life.

Are you smiling to yourself? Do you have one better? Please comment and share your favorite mondegreen(s) below, because I love to laugh.

... da da da dum ... da da da dum ... the opening bar of Beethoven's Fifth ... time to change my hearing aid batteries.

- My own personal soundtrack

When I referred to hearing music in my head yesterday, I was speaking literally, not metaphorically. And wanting to explain to you how that could be, I googled "NPR musical hallucinations." After picking through a few of the entries, I found the radio broadcast entitled Pop Music that I first heard a couple of years ago.

I remember the broadcast vividly ... I was driving through the Hill Country, my radio tuned to NPR, the car winding down Ranch Road 170 in Driftwood, listening to the story of a man who heard music in his head and thought he was going crazy.

I hear music in my head all the time ... not always the words, since lyrics usually escape me unless I make a concerted effort to learn them by rote ... but music, always, almost every minute of every day ... music.

So I listened to the story of the man and of others who have "musical hallucinations" and the talking heads on the radio said, "They're not crazy ... there's nothing wrong with them ... there is a pathway between the ears and the brain that can run both ways ... [and someone theorized] if the sound from the outside stopped, there would be a backflow ... most of the people who have musical hallucinations have one thing in common ... "

And as I drove past La Ventana (the window) I shouted out loud, "They're deaf!"

"They're deaf," echoed the radio.

As am I ... at least virtually so, since I now wear hearing aids that go a long way toward remedying my genetically-inherited deafness.

It makes for an interesting life ... all we are saying, is give peace a chance ...

- On the second day of Christmas: The sounds of war and peace

This is my stitching nest ...

where I get to look out the window at the sun and moon rises (although the clouds will obscure that today) ... where Jude's September Window rests by my elbow ... where my latest projects and flosses and bits of cloth overflow the ottoman ... where my coffee cup with its Grace diamond slowly cools. 

And through it all, my ever-patient spouse is uncomplaining, though he is a most orderly lover of order. Lucky me ...

This year I did not finish all the Christmas presents on time ...

And that's okay ... the little grandpeople are still too young to be slaves to the world's calendar. Their books will be done in good time, the right time for them.

Right now I am stitching the words to James Taylor's You Can Close Your Eyes. I've decided that I most enjoy using a simple backstitch with a single strand of floss worked over two layers of cloth ... for now. The song, the lullaby that I sang to my girls, has been running through my head as I stitch each letter.

But this morning it was replaced with the bittersweet Soldiers, with the words not quite right, but as I remembered them ... 

Just nine lucky soldiers had come through the night

Half of them wounded and barely alive

Just 9 out of twenty were headed for home

With 11 sad stories to tell

I remember quite clearly when I got out of bed

I said "Oh good morning what a beautiful day"

Perhaps it was because of the recent news reports about the 1914 Christmas cease fire ... more likely because my mind has been chewing on The Interview ... comparing it unfavorably with the two anti-Vietnam war movies that made their point far more subtly than satirizing the assassination of a real person, however ridiculous that person might be.

I am speaking, of course, about M*A*S*H which made its point from the vantage of the Korean War (how ironic I realize as I write this) and The King of Hearts, from the even more remote World War I (really, I didn't realize how interconnected all these ponderings were).

And that made me think of September 11 ... how for the briefest time there was a unity of understanding about civility and the inappropriateness of coarse, insensitive humor at the expense of others. There were no jokes about the towers ... movie openings were cancelled for so-called action films ... people were kinder, gentler to each other.

Until they/we weren't ... how easily we slipped back into the swaggering jingoism ... the self-justification ... the self-righteousness that refuses to see how actions affect others ... that lead so insidiously to war.

So now I'm thinking of Mark Twain's War Prayer ... and the song that is playing in my head is Blowin' in the Wind.

I bid you peace and hope for Solace ...

- Together in spirit: All roads lead to the beach

I'm thinking it's safe to post this now that Christmas presents have probably been opened in Virginia. Heather has long given me kitchen towels, which I love because I think of her every time I use them. So I decided it was high time to return the favor. 

My latest in the Kitchen Towel Series traces the roads-as-the-crow-flies from St Louis (note the arch), Austin (lone star), and Williamsburg (Virginia is for lovers) to the Outer Banks of North Carolina ...

                        

It was worked on the same green tablecloth linen that I have used before, 

backed with two layers of harem cloth, stitched and quilted with floss ...

And the lines are actual latitudes and longitudes (2 degrees per line), 

the state lines drawn in by hand (with wonderful inaccuracy) ...

- 'Twas the night before Christmas

For many years we read John Denver's Alfie the Christmas Tree with our girls on Christmas Eve, which ends with ...

So in your Christmas prayers this year
Alfie asked me if I'd ask you:
Say a prayer for the wind and the water and the wood
And those who live there, too

after which we would all go outside and scatter seeds for the critters.

Last year the tradition extended to the next generation with an adaptation entitled Alfie the Texas Christmas Tree. I hope the grands are reading it tonight ...

Meliss, Jackson, Griffin, and Meg

But this year, Don and I are spending Christmas Eve on the homestead, so earlier today I put food out at the critter feeding station (aka the compost heap). Then I walked the property, looking at the amazing transformation wrought by two days of work by trained arborists. This is one example of the results ...

compared to all the deadwood before ...

The crew from Bartlett filled three trucks with wood chips, which they left behind so we can create more paths. This is the view looking toward the house of what I was able to do today ...

and here's the same section with a view out to the floodplain ...

There's also a large pile out by the west trail that we had abandoned after the Halloween flood last year ... 

Now we'll be able to fill in the deep gaps between the rocks and make the trail passable again ...

Not our usual Christmas Eve, but with a cool breeze and crystalline blue skies, it was a gift from the universe, gratefully received.

With best wishes to all for a peaceful holy-day ...

- Turn, turn, turn: A first attempt at discharge dyeing with bleach

"Well the sun is surely sinking down ...

But the moon is slowly rising ...

So this old world must still be spinning 'round and I still love you"

With thanks to James Taylor for the words ... wishing everyone peace on this day of solstice and in the year to come.

- The yin and yang of gardening: A tale of the planter and the pruner

The blog posts about brush whacking and grass growing in the Hill Country were written from the admittedly biased viewpoint of yours truly. I should add that my family nickname is "The Mad Pruner" and this is but one of my recent efforts, soon to be chipped into mulch by our faithful arborists ...

Don, on the other hand, is the creator of our many rock gardens. 

                         

He's been able to transplant reportedly tetchy natives like mealy blue sage and Zexmenia from the floodplain, and the plants he purchases from local nurseries absolutely thrive ...

Also under his watch, the Mexican feather and buffalo grasses have spread, while numerous Agaves and Spanish daggers have been artfully relocated ...

My forte, on the other hand, is building compost heaps from assiduous cactus whacking efforts ...

and I'm definitely better at hauling rocks and dumping them around the perimeter of the burn pile than placing them artfully into useful plant beds. Fortunately, we both love a good fire, so when the weather is right, we're always ready ...

And somehow in the end, between the adding and the taking away, things seem to take root and grow ...

Stewards we aspire to be, Tweedledum and Tweedledee.