Casting On:

in which Sarah makes a first attempt to reconnect with her beloved textile companions after lo these many months.

Well hello! How are you? As well as can be, I hope. I’ve been thinking of you—AND right this second I’m feeling ridiculously gleeful at the prospect of writing to you again— even as I’m also a bit flummoxed about where to begin.

But gosh…maybe…how about if I…

1. make a list

my son’s dog Rupert is a dear..

2. then….make a little yarn (whew—that one’s easy)

3. also eat some food and remember how to make it (a little tricker cuz gosh, timing multiple items so they are all ready at once is a huge life skill).

4. notice that for the first time in ages and ages and ages that the things you’re making insist on being photographed —so go ahead, fall in love with the light, take some pictures, and share them!

5. notice too, that widow’s brain¹ is a thing—

fizz: hand woven tapestry; paper; hand spun wool; natural dyes; 3" x 5"

—and that despite the power of washi tape you are not yet entirely mended.

Mending/Washi Tape (detail): hand woven tapestry; hand spun used coffee filter; hand spun washi 43" x 6.5"

5. Remember that you still love what you love—

   

   —and that though part of you is enjoying the rest and freedom of hibernation--

—wants nothing more than to snuggle into a wooly nest—

—and stop talking about yourself in the second person—

(in words if not drawings since diary comics are all about your wild twin dancing in front of the fire even as your actual self is outside in a worn out pair of wool pants refashioned into a cozy jumper)—

—another part longs to take computer in hand, commit to this heretofore imaginary Substack (parenthetical asides and all), and chat with my wondrous creative companions (that’s you by the way—you as you, not you as my wild twin in case that little shift wasn’t as deftly handled as I might hope or believe), so we can go forward together. Because if there is one thing I’ve learned in these last months: steadfast companions are the BEST.

So wow and yay! Here I am.

And here you are!

Hello, hello and welcome.

Of course I have no idea what words or weft will appear here in the future, but did I ever? ²

Well I DO have dreams of being all brilliant and shiny and new and whacky and compelling.

Also there is hope and a bit of expectation that I will slip back into the old steady weekly posting rhythm.

But these days I generally find it best not to make giant promises about anything other than to do my darnedest to be myself: a recently widowed 62 year old engaged in the luminous, ordinary, wildly and weirdly compelling process of growing older with yarn, in whatever form that takes.

I so appreciate and look forward to your company.

1. my beloved husband Dan died in March 2022 of Pancreatic Cancer, and my sweet mother followed in May, of Multiple Myeloma, so perhaps you can imagine (or know from experience), the state of my fizzy brain and why I might have inadvertently woven (and then corrected, and then re-corrected to include because truth in tapestry is a thing), a backwards z.

2. since this post has arrived in your in box because you once subscribed to my newsletter/blog, you already know my life is devoted to telling stories with yarn and if that is a thing you like, please stick around for more (and no need to subscribe again as you already are). If, on the other hand, you long ago unsubscribed to my line of chat and your name came along by accident when I transferred my list from my old and expensive platform on Weebly to this exciting feeling one on Substack, please unsubscribe again at the link below. Your in box is a precious place!