The Trinket Bowls (Or Baskets)

When I started the first of these trinket bowls, I wasn't feeling very well, but I thought well enough to sit at the machine wrapping fabric strips around clothesline and slowly stitching the coil together. And in fact I did feel well enough to do that, that is until I had to make a decision about changing to a different fabric. Where I stopped to take a picture for this blog post was where I could switch to, say, the blue fabric or continue up the sides in the raindrop fabric. I wasn't sure how far the blue strips would go and in my muddled state, I simply couldn't make up my mind and walked away . . . for over a week until I felt better. By then I'd thought it over and had a plan to just continue up the sides and switch to the blue for the last two rounds. And was disappointed with the look, plus the bowl was slightly larger than mine that I was using as a guide, and I'm not sure why. Was the clothesline slightly thicker, or the less wide zigzag not pulling together the coils as much? Whatever the reason, I forged ahead, deciding the next one would use up all the pink fabric and it pretty much did. But was smaller than the first - go figure! I had some orangy pink for the center of the last bowl, filling in the gap to the place where it shapes up the sides with raindrop fabric and doing the final 4 rows in the blue now that I knew how far each strip would go. In size it falls somewhere between the first and second one. I think I like it best although the pink one is very likable too. 

There's still maybe a 4 or 5 inch selvage to selvage strip of the raindrop fabric plus other wider lengths that run parallel to the selvage but otherwise, the rest of the fabric that went into the quilt has been used up. I like the way the raindrop fabric worked up in the trinket bowls so may put it in the bag where I have other fabrics suitable for bowls. in the meantime, quilt and pillowcases and bowls are now boxed up ready to send off.

Signs of Autumn

Spotted on a recent walk

From Joy Williams essay, “Autumn”:

There is no such thing as time going straight on to new things. This is an illusion. Okay? And clinging to this illusion makes it difficult to understand oneself and one’s life and what is happening to one. Time is repetition, a circle. This is obvious. Day and night, the seasons, tell us this. Even so, we don’t believe it. Time is not a circle, we think. Spring screams the opposite to us, of course, and summer seduces us into believing that we’re all going to live forever. Winter couldn’t care less what we think about time. But fall cares. Instructive, tactful, subtle, fall is a philosophy all its own. Occult, secretive, taking pleasure in sleep, in rest. Fall’s comfortless, honest rot. In the beginning in most places it’s showy, the better to mask its melancholy: raging leaves and spanking breezes, edgy with the real cold. And that special, solemn light. For fall is for melan- cholics and those in love. The torchy sort of love. Forget spring. Spring is nothing but promise, a reproach to melancholics. Spring makes us forget the deal, whereas fall is the deal. The unutterable, unalterable deal.

Fall is. It always comes round, with its lovely patience. If in the beginning it’s restless, at the end it’s re signed, complete in its waiting, complete in the utter correctness of what it has to tell us. Which is that we’re transitory. We’re transient, we’re temporary, we’re all only sometime. We will pass and someone else will take our place. Our pursuit of living founders each time we remember this. Fall is the darkening window, the one Hart Crane had in mind in his poem “Fear,” the window on which likes the night.

Found in Ill Nature: Rants and Reflections on Humanity and Other Animals.