Quilts aren’t my only items sewn by hand; I do a fair amount of mending, mostly on jeans. I’ve been wearing 501’s for over thirty years, and they have to be either in tatters or not longer fitting for me to throw them away. I have several old pairs that have fallen under my needle, and last night it was time to affect some repairs.
Recently I’ve used navy thread just to liven up these ancient trousers, but as I cut patches yesterday I considered all the new thread acquired over Christmas; how neat might it look to employ some of those shades? I chose three colours, then began to pin; I use a lot of pins when mending jeans, making sure patches stay right where I put them.
Hand-sewing quilts came easily after all the wear and tear I’ve tackled on denim over my lifetime, ha ha ha….
So excited to incorporate these new threads, I went back of this pair of jeans, finding new places in need of some patching love. As I sewed, I kept glancing to the coffee table, admiring vibrant spools; something about colour touches me deeply, not sure why. But equally my thoughts have been drifting to hues described in prose; I’m over a third into The Hawk Part Twelve, managing nearly three chapters of revisions most days. Reading it on my phone is the easiest way to get a feel for just how “finished” it is; books on devices always appear polished, although not very colourful.
Sometimes my life is kind of black and white, although myriad levels of gray are always prevalent. Writing remains dormant, but novelistic notions flirt in the background, as if waiting for spring. Daffodils are already up in our garden, and I’m hoping to return to Part Thirteen perhaps as soon as March. I’m not in any hurry, in part that for the last two years I’ve thought the end was in sight, hah! But when that occurs, my goodness. It will feel…. I can’t even imagine that sensation, or what colour would describe it. Maybe a rainbow will do justice to such an event. Stay posted; eventually I’m going to complete The Hawk, just a matter of time.