Gathering Moonbeams

Continuing my long love affair with the moon!

For ever so long none of us had actually been to the moon and so it remained a bit of a mystery sending light down upon the earth in the middle of the night.  Has seeing pictures of the first person to set foot on earth taken away its magic?  Not for me -- I still look up at a full moon feeling that it is shining just for me (but I gladly share it with everyone else).  While science and discovery can tell me all the nitty-gritty about the moon I'll continue to gather moonbeams on a full moon night.

"Moonlight is sculpture." - Nathaniel Hawthorne

Feeling Grey

I don't know whether its because we've had a lot of grey, overcast days interspersed with rain lately -- or because many of my morning walks seem to be into the fog -- but I've become smitten with the color grey.

I feel myself being drawn to these misty, soft shades of grey with perhaps a little bit of soft blue or lavender thrown in.  Usually this is a light, bright tones time of the year - but I keep thinking of the softness of grey and its counterparts and I am drawn into its mystery and magic.

Recently I went to a Quilt Shop Hop where I seriously looked for grey fat quarters and the other day I spent a beautiful hour in the "Asheville Cotton" store where I searched out shades of grey to add to my collection.

I'm not sure what I'll do with all these fog, mist, ocean, clouds, steam, smoke shades but here they lay ready and waiting.

The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

Carl Sandburg

Winter's Grey

There was a fog all over the forest - slipping in amongst the trees.  It always seems so magical to me, like a veil dropped over familiar sights making them less clear.  Fog seems to soften everything.

This fog brought thoughts to me about this time of the year - the winter colors (or non-colors) of grey and white, of silver and black.  A time when the color spectrum seems to be narrowed down to only a few shades.

I've gathered together some floss which will somehow make itself into a winter homage.  I haven't yet decided just how this will happen or what I will do with it but I know that I will celebrate this time of the year when bears hibernate and people do too.  When I snuggle down in my studio and put hand to stitches.

The fog comes on little cat feet.

It sits looking over harbor and city

on silent haunches and then moves on. - Carl Sandberg