Today is the first day of spring.  It feels like hot, midsummer here in Marigot, St. Lucia, and I’ve heard that New York/New England will get one more big snow storm today.  March came in like and lion and  is going out like one too!

A number of weavers I have loved and admired passed away recently.  I know as we age our older friends beginning moving on, but this year the losses took me by surprise.

Losing friends is hard, but particularly hard among weavers, who I believe are more generous and caring than the average person.  My dear, dear friend June passed away in mid February, and I was fortunate to be able to get home for her service, a wonderful celebration of June’s life as well as a terrific gathering of weavers who were also long-time friends of June.  It’s a wonderful way to remember someone, surrounded by all the other age old friends you have in common with the one who is absent.

Then so shortly afterward, I opened the NY Times one morning (March 12)  to find a wonderful obituary on Ethel Stein.  She lived a productive 100 years, and created so many beautiful works of textile art.  She definitely made the most of her time here, but that doesn’t mean I won’t miss her any less.  I cannot be counted a friend of hers, but I visited her beautiful studio in Croton on Hudson, and enjoyed her generous attentions in showing a small group of us her her works in progress, the draw loom she adapted herself, and a wonderful series of  black and white opphampta pieces she had displayed on one long wall in her house/studio (I’ve got a photo of that somewhere).  Her gardens were so lush; it’s hard to imagine anyone  weaving such complex and difficult pieces with such dexterity while also having time to garden.  And she was not young when I visited her.  It was probably 20 or so years ago.

There is a wonderful video of Ethel winding  yarn, dyeing it, and then weaving with it, posted by Eric Schrotenboer .  She’s doing a wonderful clasped weft piece in this video using her dyed yarn.  It is a treasure!

Over the weekend I learned that the Jockey Hollow weaving guild, one of my guilds from New Jersey, is having a sale of Andi Trasborg’s equipment and fibers from her extensive collection of weaving, bobbin lace, spinning, and dyeing stash.  I was shocked to learn that she had passed away in December, especially since she should have had years left to pursue these passions and share her knowledge with the rest of us.

I spent a week with Andi at Vavstuga.  We had long days weaving and learning Becky Ashendon’s Swedish weaving techniques, and each evening we indulged and relaxed over a glass of wine and conversation, after the other participants went to bed. It was a short but memorable time together.  She continued her studies at Vavstuga and learned to weave damask and opphampta on a draw loom.

But I return to my dear June.  She had a long life, but not long enough! At 88, she is survived by her two older sisters, who are 91 and 94.  I wanted  June to make it to 100. She began weaving at 16 years old, which would have been in the mid-1940s, and she spent a year in Sweden (where she had plenty of relatives) learning Swedish techniques in one of the state craft schools.  She continued her art and textile studies when she returned by attending Alfred University in New York State.  When I met her in the early 1990s, she could proudly say she’d been weaving for 50 years by that point–longer than I had been alive.  She was so enthusiastic and so willing to share all she had learned over the years.

This is just about my favorite photo of June!  It captures her personality, which was always optimistic and enthusiastic through both good times and challenging times.  She had her fair share of challenges, but you might never guess that if you didn’t know her well.  This was taken at a family gathering on her 85th birthday.

And forgive — I can’t resist! — here is a photo of June and I together at another celebration of her 85th birthday.  Our small group of weavers from the Hudson Valley area took June on a boat tour of the Hudson, from Kingston, down past West Point and Bannerman’s Island.

When I went to June’s service, I wanted to share a moment in time with her friends and family.  I knew that whatever experiences I had with her would be similar to any experience others had with her.  This won’t mean much to those of you who never knew yer, but if you did, and if you did not hear me tell this story at her service, read on.

Remembering June

Over the past couple of weeks, this story about a day I spent with June keeps running through my mind. I feel compelled to share it with you. It is like so many days I spent with June, and I bet the same is true for each of you.

I met June through weaving, but very soon became acquainted with her many interests and talents. However we each knew June, she brought us into her fold…. her design and compositional gifts, her musical talents, her weaving and painting talents, her storytelling.!

Several years ago, June was beginning to de-stash her house on Deer Track Lane in preparation for moving. She had assembled several boxes of books, which she wanted to donate to a weaving school in Rhode Island, run by her friend Jan Doyle.

June planned to drive to my house in Connecticut to spend a few days, and during her visit we would drive together to visit Jan. We were headed to South Carolina, Rhode Island–I’d never heard of a town with such an odd name!

I’m the type of person who likes to organize a trip, putting my destination in my GPS, calculating what time I should leave home, and contacting whoever I plan to visit to let them know what time to expect me to arrive. This is not how June operates. Although I asked her a few times for the address of the weaving school, she put me off, saying not to worry, she had it. On the morning we headed out, she told me not to worry about the address, she knew where we were going…..and she did! We got there with no trouble.

We carried in the boxes of books, and Jan and June and I had fun unpacking them and looking through some of them. Some of Jan’s students came to look too. Then Jan took us on a tour of the school, which is in the rather well known Octagon House. There were looms in every room except the kitchen and one parlor, upstairs and down, and every loom had a project underway on it. June struck up a conversation with every student, wanting to know how and when they learned to weave, and what project were they working on right then. She commented on every project! Then Jan took us into one of the large parlors, the one room without looms, where a group of creative writers were holding a regular meeting. June had no problem mingling with the dozen or so people there. She asked them each about what they were currently writing, and she told them about her desire to finish writing a memoir. She had such a gift of gab — I felt like I was clutching her apron strings to keep up.

After our visit at Jan’s weaving school, we drove into Wickford for a quick tour and lunch. June had a story about each of the historic houses along the main street in town. She pointed out a house where she had spent a few summers many years ago. Although my husband and I had lived in Wickford aboard our boat for several summers quite recently, June knew more about Wickford than I’ll ever know. We had a late lunch there, and during lunch, June decided that we had time to visit a very old friend in a nearby town on our way home.

I don’t remember the old friend’s name, but I’m going to call her Muriel. I know June called her by a name I thought was somewhat old fashioned. If I’ve got it right, some of you might know the friend I mean. I have no idea what town we were headed to, but again June knew how to get there, and of course we got there with no problem.

Muriel lived in a charming New England shingle house, with large gardens around the property. We rang the front door bell, no answer. We knocked on the back door and got no answer. So June told me stories about Muriel while we walked around her gardens. She had not seen Muriel in many years, maybe forty years, although June and Muriel continued to stay in touch with holiday cards. Muriel happened to have a wonderful hedge of hydrangea in bloom that day, with flowers in that deep blue shade so like the early night sky, just after dusk has passed, that is so common in coastal areas in New England and Long Island. June decided that we needed to take home some of these hydrangea flowers to make two arrangements as a memento of this day together. Well, now I was completely out of my comfort zone!—but June knew I had a small bucket and garden shears in the back of my station wagon. So…. we cut an armful of beautiful, blue hydrangeas and began the drive home. June had no problem directing me back to Rt. 95, and we had an easy trip back to my house.

Back at home, June and I picked greens from my garden to add to our hydrangea. June chose greens of different colors and textures to enhance the hydrangea. She had such an eye for composition and color, didn’t she? We made two very pretty arrangements, and the next day June headed home with hers.

A couple of weeks later June called to tell me that she had called Muriel’s house several times and eventually gotten through to someone. She had spoken to Muriel’s daughter who said that Muriel had been in the hospital for some time, and that Muriel would enjoy hearing that June had tried to visit. The daughter said that Muriel would be happy to hear that we were making good use of her hydrangea flowers!

So here’s the thing. This is my take away from a day spent with June. A day with June always became an adventure, and the day became legendary–epic!—almost before it had ended.

June touched each of us. She molded each of us. In some cases knowing her changed us. She certainly changed me – in good ways for which I’ll always be thankful. She is the reason that the ‘thing’ we used to call “six degrees of separation” has become somewhat closer than six degrees. As we move into the next room for a time of fellowship I think we’ll find that gap of separation getting even closer. June would love that.

 

 

 

As New England faces another big snowstorm today–the 3rd in only the first half of March!– Bob and I have been tied down in Martinique due to the sea state that results from storms in the North Atlantic.  That’s okay.  This is a beautiful island, so it’s not a bad place to be ‘stuck.’

This morning I saw in the NYTimes that Ethel Stein passed away at 100 years old.  What a wonderfully long, creative life she led.  What amazing influences from other artists she experienced in her long journey of creativity!  I visited her once with a group of weavers who, like me, lived along the Hudson Valley, just north of New York City.  She was probably about the age then that this photo was taken.  I was smitten with her beautiful surroundings in Croton-on-Hudson, by her draw loom which she adapted herself, and of course, by her woven pieces. I was with good friends that day, who remain good friends all these years later.

I can’t help thinking of the recent TED talk I saw about what it takes to live a long a life.  It’s not what we all expected–eating well, not smoking or using recreational drugs, drinking moderate alcohol if any, getting physical exercise.  No!  It turns out that while those things certainly help, it’s more important to have close relationships, to be engaged in the world, to be intellectually active.  Ethel certainly filled all these requirements.  My friend June did too, and although she did not make it to 100 years, she lived an active and vital 88 years.  In fact, she was on the short side to turning 89.

But back to our unintended extra time in Martinique.  We have been back in the islands for a week, and while we thought we’d be on our way to St. Lucia shortly after arriving back here, the weather has not cooperated.  And sometimes, that’s just what we need–a forced detour from the plan– to learn a bit more about things.  We rented a car on Saturday, our 2nd car rental during our long stay on Martinique, and we explored the northwestern part of the island.  Mt. Pelee, the big volcano on Martinique is in this part of the island, as well as a national park that has trails through the rainforest.  It was the highlight of our stay in Martinique, so we are both glad for the extra time here.

Mt. Pelee has been known to erupt every 100 – 150 years.  Since its last eruption was in 1902, when it wiped out the entire city of St. Pierre (only two people survived), it could gear up any time now for another event.  Nowadays there are ways of monitoring these things that were not even ideas the last time Mt. Pelee erupted, and at the moment the volcano is silent.  But if it continues as it has for previous eruptions, Mt. Pelee could wake up any year now.

All the volcanic islands in this part of the Caribbean are known as the “islands that kiss the clouds.”  They are certainly big mountains–Mt. Pelee is 4,000 ft high, and that does not take into account what lies below the surface of the sea.  I just asked Bob to check his charts on how deep the ocean is off the coast where Mt. Pelee sinks into the sea.  It’s about 8,000 feet there, so that makes Mt. Pelee 12,000 feet high.  I have come to think that these mountains attract the clouds down to them, wringing out moisture that nourishes the rainforests, rather than rising up to ‘kiss the clouds.’ I am using a photo from the internet because the day we drove around Mt. Pelee and up the winding road as far to the top as it went, there was far more cloud cover.  St. Pierre is shown in the foreground.

The rainforest we visited on Martinique is the most beautiful we’ve seen so far in our travels.  Here are a few photos.

There were so many trees that must be carrying their weight in other plants along their trunks and branches.  This trunk is covered in bromeliads.

I enjoyed watching Bob take photos.  Here he is crossing a small bridge over a crystal clear stream.

And here’s that stream–

Out in the gardens there were some broad vistas where perhaps you can see Mt. Pelee on a clear day, but  I’m not sure there are any clear days for the summit of that mountain.

Also, the entrance to the rainforest is a well designed museum with gardens to tour.  I loved the various displays in the museum and the gardens around it almost as much as the trail through the forest.  I loved this view through an opening in the museum building.

There were so many tree ferns, orchids, bromeliads, and vines growing deep in these woods.  It was breathtaking.  There is such a variety of life that I hardly ever think about unless I’m confronted by it!  Oddly, we only heard one bird call in these forests, a large, robin-sized songbird, with an orange/red breast and mostly black/brown body. Later on our walk we saw two light green parakeets take flight across one of the planned gardens outside the museum.  It was eerily silent in the forest, and  I saw no bugs, no snakes, and only two types of bird.  Yet there was so much flora to support what I bet is a multitude of creatures!

Bob took a photo that is calling for my attention.  I think it has great potential for a tapestry design.  I look forward to playing with it.  There is so much possibility for a limited color palette with lots of texture….and those tiny leaves!

On our way down from Mt. Pelee we took a different route in order to drive into St. Pierre to see the city that was destroyed in the 1902 volcano. Before that eruption, St. Pierre was known as “the Paris of the Caribbean.”

Along the our route we passed an historic rum distillery, and Bob can never pass up the chance to taste rum.   I am also glad we stopped because the original owner’s house and gardens have been well maintained over the centuries.

Giving in to my love of photographing windows surrounded by flowers, I think this might be the most opulent one I’ve ever encountered. It’s the north wing on the front of the house. I can’t stop thinking about throwing open those shutters early in the morning to watch the beaugainvillea bend in the breezes off the Caribbean while the sun rises at the back of the house–with a cafe au lait, of course!

This magnificent tree dominates the entrance to the house, near matching relfecting pools with fountains that flank the front walkway.

Here’s the view from the front north corner of the house.

The back of the house has nice views and gardens as well.  Not surprising.

The siting of this distillery has plenty of water to run the operation.  This is the spillway for the runoff on the day we were there.  That’s a lot of water over the bridge–or the road, so to speak.

All that rushing water runs this wheel–

Along with the well preserved history here, you can even have lunch here in a beautiful restaurant that overlooks the fields of sugar cane and out to the Caribbean Sea. The view is similar to the one from the front of the owner’s house.

I shamefully photographed my salad, and then became so engrossed in this exceptional meal that I forgot to take a photo of the main course, and believe me, it was a work of art and tasted as good as it looked!

So, after the extended visit to the Depaz Distillery, we headed into the center of St. Pierre. There are ruins of the 17th c. French fort still in the main part of the city, and the only currently inhabited buildings were built in the 20th c., after the last eruption.  The church dates back to 1659, although it was damaged on numerous occasions during the 17th and 18th c.’s, during battles between the French and English for naval supremacy of the Caribbean (and the world).  It was rebuilt in the mid-19th century and afterward changed from a neo-classical facade to its current Baroque facade.  It is a beauty!  Of course, I much preferred this view from the side, so you don’t even see the front facade.

St. Pierre is now a charming seaside town. The beaches along the water’s edge in St. Pierre are dark grey volcanic ash, which is somewhat visible in the photo.

This is the explosion (bad word choice perhaps) of bougainvillea on the balcony of the orange building in the previous photo.

We hope to leave for St. Lucia in the next day or so.  More seasoned cruisers to this part of the world have assured us that the further south we go, the more lush and beautiful the islands are.  We are looking to that and to seeing what mother nature throws in our path when she ties us down in other places.

**note–due to weak wifi I had a devil of time getting photos to load.  Some of the appear to have not loaded well, and when I have better internet I will fix these problems!  I hope you’ll check back here!

It has been quite a hiatus since my last post. A lot of water has gone under the keel since I met the mother/daughter weavers on Montserrat. We all know life can be full of curve balls, plunges down the roller coaster, and untimely surprises. That’s what’s been going on in my life lately, and I have been a little too shell shocked to write.

Along the way weaving and knitting lent a normalcy and calmness to surprises that popped up in my path–health issues while in a foreign country and the loss of a dear friend. Both weaving and knitting lend enough calm to deal with any roller coaster. I have better access to knitting while onboard than weaving, and the repetitive motion of making one stitch after another— dec right, YO, knit 5, YO, dec. left, etc., etc.—is a wonderful antidote to all kinds of ups and downs.

On the UPside, there has been some tremendously good news since I last checked in here. Our older son’s wife is expecting twins this summer! Yes, twins! They’ll arrive when our dear Tori Tiny Super Moon is only 18 months old, so that house will be full of chaos and magic. I hope I get to spend plenty of time there soaking it all up!

In preparation, I am knitting two baby blankets in the same pattern that I made for Tori , just a little over a year ago! And I’m thinking about matching Christmas sweaters, and a cute Christmas tunic for Tori…and… and…dare I think about lace?

This is Tori’s blanket being blocked back when I finished it, before the baby shower that was held in her honor.

We have just spent two weeks back in the US, and one of those weeks we spent visiting this growing family. Tori is getting cuter and cuter!   Communicating with her has become so much fun for me! She has a sign for ‘more’ which is really the sign for “again.” Isn’t that interesting? She doesn’t know it’s the sign for ‘again;’ it’s really her own invention. I am infatuated by that! She also has her own version of the sign for ‘please.’ She says ‘pay’ for ‘play,’ and she reaches for our iphones all the time while saying, “Pay! Pay!” She does lots of puzzles and has become shockingly good at them. Even though Mom brings home new ones all the time, it only takes her a few moments to figure them out. She does them so quickly, and then turns them upside down to send all the pieces scattering which makes her laugh. So her mother puts them away in a place that Tori cannot reach. So, when she says “puh” a few times, I will ask her if she wants to do a puzzle. When she nods yes vigorously, I ask her if she needs ‘help’ getting one down from the dining room sideboard. To this, she replies, “Hep! Hep! ”

I have to listen carefully for the difference between ‘buh’ (book) and ‘puh’ (puzzle). She loves to look at books. Puzzles and books are her favorite toys, followed closely by stuffed animals. Here she is sitting on her dad’s head, reading a book. Don’t ask—I have no idea why she likes this position for reading!

She is also quite good at pulling stickers off a sheet.  In this photo, she is has already finished off a sheet of stickers and has now decorated herself with all the background sticker bits–in case you’re wondering what’s on her shirt!

During our 6-day visit Bob took hundreds of photos of Tori. He took so many in burst mode that we have several sequences of photos that show her doing such adorable things. Doting grandparents!

While I haven’t done much weaving lately, I spent part of a day working on the ‘Text’ tapestry that is a line from a Robert Frost poem. It felt so good to be picking the warps and inserting the weft again, now sitting on my highest stool since the piece is growing ever so slowly. One more word and I’ll be advancing the warp around the copper frame. I also got the last piece of IKEA shelving unit (Kallax) for my herculean project of reorganization. Goodbye, big ugly bins that were caving under the weight of how many I had to stack against the wall in the room next to my studio. Now I have closed bins with labels to hold almost everything I need. The bins fit into a wooden shelving unit that keeps everything tidy. It looks so much calmer in this room now. I even decided to put my smallest loom in here. I still need a solution for my bins of fabric, so I have my thinking cap on about that. Ideas are greatly appreciated, if you have any please share! (They are sticking out from the counter top in the far right of the 3rd photo, looking quite unsightly in the midst of such great organization!)

From this beginning back in August….

….to this!  Finally!  IKEA was always out of stock on various pieces we needed to complete the project.

Just before our trip home I discovered that Laverne Waddington has a new instructional video on backstrap weaving. Take a look! I still believe this is the perfect loom to have on a boat. Well, that is if I can find a good way of tying myself fore and aft; last time I tried I could only find ways of tying up my loom port to starboard and that causes all kinds of trouble for anyone else trying to get anywhere while I’m weaving! Weaving on a backstrap loom can be as simple or challenging as I want, so it ought to keep me occupied and well engaged during the months without my floor looms. I have not had enough good internet to watch the whole video, but I’m sure I will learn a great deal from Laverne, and make some progress in tackling this technique!

Closer to home (New England) I’ve learned there is an exhibition of weavers’ work that includes Kate Barber, one of our guild members.

So I haven’t exactly given you fair warning to get to the opening reception, but there is plenty of time to get the exhibit if you are in the area.  Luckily I’ll be home in time to see this show.  You can see more of Kate’s work here.

And during my short stay in Connecticut, I found that a fellow fiber artist who works in paper has opened a studio right in the center of my little village. I first crossed paths with Ben Parker at a show of works in fiber a couple of years ago. After that I saw his work, and talked to him as well, at an open studio event for all kinds of artists in Hartford. I’ve been on his email list for notices of his upcoming shows and the workshops he has begun to teach. His studio is just that, a place where he works, rather than a gallery. He will be using this space to teach workshops, and I’d LOVE to get a group of weavers together to study with him this summer. Weavers, you know who you are, so let’s make a plan when I get home!

These are the things that make life so interesting and get us through the rough spots, aren’t they? My online guild from the UK is spending the month of March studying tapestry techniques under the guidance of Matty Smith. I can’t always get online down here in the Caribbean, but when I can, the ‘lessons’ will likely spark some good ideas for me.

I have gotten email notices that my local weavers have had to cancel meetings for two months in a row, due to the winter weather. And doesn’t the weather in early March often throw more at us New Englanders than the whole month of February can muster? On the one hand, a snowstorm in March never lasts long, but on the other hand, the power outages always last longer than the snow in March. Our house is currently without power, and most of my friends are in the same boat (bad pun!)—except they are living there right now.

Tomorrow is my older son’s birthday. He is the father of dear Tori and the soon-to-be father of the twins. He was born in the midst of a wild snowstorm 34 years ago. That snowstorm came with plenty of thunder and lightning. The delivery nurses were more interested in watching the storm out the window than paying attention to this brand new mom. A foot of snow fell in only a couple of hours that night. Over the years since then, Rob has had more snowy birthdays than not. So, I always enjoy a big March snowstorm. It heralds another birthday and makes me take a look at how much life changes as the decades slide past.

As you can see, I am clearly on a smooth path again—thanks in large part to knitting — and weaving.