Trying to Make Sense of It All, 3

The weather is beautiful so outdoor work fills my days. Once the sun sets, I pick up my needle...and frequently nod off. But, still, I'm making some progress on my old quilt. 

In the meantime, I'm still working on this journal that documents the mess in Washington, D.C.

However, you can imagine the difficulty of keeping up with such relentless news cycles.

The cast of characters rivals the Cirque du Soleil.

The words and expressions continue to intrigue me.

The problem: 

I don't see how all this can end well...

for anybody...

Out & About

On errand days interesting subjects cross my path.

   





I try to catch people in movement.







Then there are the buildings, neighborhoods, and streets that look so different from where I grew up in Oregon.










Traffic presents challenges: we drove behind a shovel contraption (no idea what it is called these days--is it still a steam shovel?).



And our favorite small restaurant always has interesting possibilities.

The Beach, 2: Memories of Summer

Two activities keep me attentive to the moment when I go to the beach--stitching and sketching. 

The landscapes and the colors under the Tunisian sun are enticing

And the gardens are bewitching.

People-watching entertains me. We see lots of Russian tourists basking in the sun for hours, as if they will never see it again once they return home (this may be true).

A child's drawing of women served as a background for a sun-bather. I liked the contrast.

Usually, I have to sketch rapidly ...and then I turn the page.











Contour sketches without looking too much at the paper fill my pages.












Quite possibly, palm trees are my favorite subject.

In the meantime...

I Just Wanna Stitch! 2

Progress is slow, but steady, on my worn bed quilt.

Another hole required attention, the beginning of another set of wings.

Yeah, I know, another big project. 

Stitching into the wee hours of the night...

My friend's antique quilt, made by her grandmother and great-grandmother in Pennsylvania, gave me a diversion this summer. 


There was a rather large hole in the middle (mice, maybe?) that just begged for repair. 


Having mostly fabric from used clothing in my stash, it was easy to find similar fabrics and colors.
The repair job is almost invisible.




While I stitched and admired the work on this quilt, I could hear the makers whispering to me across the generations. I recorded the quilt's history on a tag stitched to the back. 

Of course, this made me remember that my grandmother's quilts await me for repairs. I would like to talk to her for awhile...