Happy New Year

Posted on by
Reply

I’m back.  2012.  Here, in the Mayan world, it is my belief that 2012 is a time for new beginnings, fresh air, bright thoughts and wise actions . . . letting go of what no longer works and embracing what we love. Dooms day?  End of the world? What a crock. We’re talking good stuff, 2012 style. The dawning of the age of harmony, clarity, truth, transparency (something I have thought a lot about since a great conversation with my brilliant girl Jessica), and doing what’s right for the world knowing that we benefit on every level from doing so. I feel inspired and optimistic.

So what did I do on the first day of the new year?  Among other things, I made a dress for Jessica.   I was inspired to try something new and had an awesome colorful abstract Liberty print in a soft flowing cotton that I knew would look great on her. The dress, like most everything I make, is pretty simple.  A shirred top that drops to a breezy ankle length.  That’s it. Two big rectangles, french seams, shirred top, a hem.

I found out that shirring is really simple.  Hand wind elastic thread on a bobbin and use regular thread through the needle and sew rows that are evenly spaced (I did mine 1/2 inch apart). Ta-dah! The dress looks beautiful on her and I finished it in just a couple of hours, start to finish. Next, one for me . . .

Here is the dress:

 

Best thing of 2011?  Having my three kids all here in Mexico for Christmas. I am happiest around them and they were all here for a wonderful long vacation of hanging out on the beach, cooking some incredible meals together, and lots of laughing.  Tanned, happy, relaxed . . . I think they had a good time.

Check out what Jess did for my business, here:

http://mamamade.tumblr.com/

 

Wishing everyone a wonderful New Year!

. . . fills my veins with adrenalin

Posted on by
2

“Early in the morning or before the sun goes down are my favourite times in the Exotic Garden.  The colours are crisper in the low light, and there’s a peace and quiet out of hours.  I am never bored or tired of this space – it fills my veins with adrenalin.”  Christopher Lloyd, gardener

When I read this quote, the picture of my garden came into light and filled my veins with adrenalin.  I miss my garden, picture the new heliconia that recently bloomed for the first time, wonder if there are any more figs ready for eating and how the Angel’s trumpet is doing in its fight against the spider mites since I have been gone.  I am here in Northampton, having come back to the States to see my doctors, and my lovely, wonderful children who I have missed greatly.

I’m a little overwhelmed at the moment.  I’m being sent to a new MS specialist, scheduled for MRIs of my brain, neck and back, getting ready to start up again on Copaxone and it’s regime of daily shots I give myself, being checked by an ophthalmologist since my vision has been MS wacky lately, and on and on. It’s good I am here, doing all this medical stuff since I haven’t been doing all that well lately, and I want to feel better – but, I miss home . . . wish instead of all this that Jessica, Zac and Sam were in Mexico with me having a lovely tropical vacation.

I am staying with Zac and he’s being amazing – driving me around to appointments, picking up prescriptions, doing my errands, giving me lots of hugs and making me smile. And, soon I will be seeing Jess and Sam and I cannot wait for us all to be together. I love seeing my three together – they are beautiful, funny and smart.  I laugh with them like with no other, and as they say, laughter is the best medicine . . . I am ready for an injection of them! They fill my veins with adrenalin.

El higo hermosa . . . The beautiful fig

Posted on by
Reply

higo

Last year I planted a fig tree in the back yard.  It wasn’t very big, about up to my waist, and kind of scrawny when I planted it. Fig trees like a lot of sun and not a lot of water.  This one developed a disease called “rust” and that’s what it looked like, rust colored spots on the leaves that spread like crazy.  I learned that it needs plenty of circulation as well. With some trepidation,  I chopped it almost all the way down to the ground, and it came back beautifully. Today it is almost as tall as the house and bearing fruit!

I’m excited.  When I was a kid I would stand barefoot in my grandparents yard in Alabama eating fig after fig until my grandfather would yell for me to save some for the birds. Right off the tree, hot and plumply purple a fig tastes like your first kiss, like babies breath, like waking up on your birthday, like dew drops in a flower cup. . .

I’ll start with the aprons

Posted on by
1

I have things half done all over my studio . . . aprons waiting to be pieced, bags wanting straps, the new head bands I am making from some wonderful organic cotton knit that I stenciled – and will only take a few minutes to finish – draped over the end of the ironing board. T-shirts patient friends have dropped off that I have promised to cut and make into cool summer tops sit on the work table. And more, always more.

Today is the day.

I am figuring out how to make the summer work for me here. This morning Patti and I took the dogs to the beach at 6:15, before the sun was too high in the sky to avoid the heat which will make this work day melt into drowsy clumsiness with me having only enough energy to glance in the direction of my sewing machine and sigh..  MS and Mexican summers don’t get along. So, I set the alarm for 5:45, started our coffee, put on my awesome cooling neck bandana and a hat, stuffed some bags for the dogs business into my pocket and Patti and I took the two Sweeties, Daisy and Buddy out early today.  It was perfect. And very beautiful . . . the sun just above the horizon making the sea glisten with ripples of gold, a lovely breeze, the air so soft and sweet. Buddy swam.  The others chased around like maniacs, found a crab, ran through the surf and walked with us to the pier where they played what looked like Billy Goats Gruff – remember that?. For me, it was the longest I’ve been able to walk in weeks and it felt fantastic. Walking in the cool water helped. Tomorrow we are shooting for 6 am.

I am feeling better.

I think I’ll start with the aprons.  Right now.

the smell of jasmine

Posted on by
2

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

What is not captured is the wind . . . light and shadow dancing along the wall  . . . the smell of jasmine and gardenia . . . the sound of the breeze in the palms, the distant crashing of waves on the reef, the singing gecko and mockingbird and the black bird’s endearing call to the morning. The pictures are still but nothing about my garden is.

and add MS to the tags

Posted on by
2

Okay, so what I want to write about is what I am doing here in Mexico.  Sewing – making aprons and bags and things to wear and wherever else the fabric leads me. And creating art . . . painting, making shrines and jewelry and collage, multimedia and photography.  And also about gardening.  Gardening is something I have always loved doing but it has reached a level of near obsession since being here in the state of Quintana Roo.  The tropical plants I find here are exciting, rewarding and beautiful.  A perfect day includes getting dirty and sweaty and losing time in the lush green humidity of heleconia, elephant ear, orchid, ginger, crotons, palms, and more – many, many more. So many that it will take a while longer for me to know all the names, but I am having fun doing so. Three big books on tropical gardening and one all about the diseases and pests of tropicals, which I find almost disturbingly fascinating. And about my adventures here in the land of turquoise water and cenotes and life in a Mayan small fishing village and this wonderful community of people from all over the world.

That was, and still is, the plan. Lately, I haven’t been doing the things I meant to write about . . .

I forgot the name of my blog. I forgot how to find it even. For a while I even forgot I was setting one up.

I have MS, multiple sclerosis, and these days it has been especially challenging. It is hot here in Mexico, in the summer is it hot and humid 24 hours a day. As you might know, heat and humidity  is to a person with MS like Kryptonite is to Superman. Not that I am comparing myself to Superman, but you get the idea. It is frustrating.  Here I am in paradise, my paradise and happy in a million ways and my body is not cooperating. My brain is not cooperating.  I am forgetful, having a hard time focusing, tired is too mild a word for the kind of exhaustion I am experiencing – I now really know what fatigue is – and even the idea of doing something wears me out. I don’t want to go on and on but  . . . the vision in my left eye is like I smeared vasoline in it, my legs are wobbly and crazy and uncooperative and I walk like a drunk on the best of days lately, I have dropped and broken all but three of my coffee mugs and for the life of me can’t open the orange juice in my fridge and I really want some.

So, what am I doing?

I am figuring out how to live in a body that on many days just doesn’t match my spirit, my sense of adventure, my urge to create . . . Learning a lot about letting go, about living alone, about accepting help, about gratefulness and friendship and community.

And, just when a I thought nothing magical was going to happen to me, feeling trapped here in my house, more than twenty butterflies are swirling past my window. Yellow, white and orange kaleidoscoping in the blue, blue, blue sky.