Wednesday, June 2, 2021

It could have been the gift of a full moon in the palm of her hand and then I noticed the presence of her father for the first time


Yesterday I stopped at my hall closet door to look at the flyer attached there and announcing the last exhibit of some of the tapestries which my friend, Linda Rees, worked on over a period of 50 years before she had to stop weaving due to increasing memory loss.  When she could no longer remember how to warp her floor loom, a friend stepped in and warped it for her.  Linda still remembered how to weave and was not ready to stop, but the time came when she made a conscious decision to sell to a younger weaver the loom she had woven on for fifty years, beginning at the time her only daughter was born.

While looking closely at the image I had looked at so many times before, I suddenly noticed the figure of the father of her daughter.  He is dressed in pale green and khaki.   Odd how certain important details escape us until we can see them.  

Linda and I became good friends in the 1970s when her daughter was in grade school.  I bought one of Linda's earliest tapestries from a local yarn store.  When I handed the store owner my check, she noticed my address and told me that Linda lived a few houses down the street from where I lived and said that I might like to get to know Linda.  The store owner was right.  Linda and I bonded through our complementary art work and a love for long walks.

Linda died this past December after having turned 80 years old in November.  I miss her but can still feel her creative presence and encouragement as I prepare to begin working on Mandala #62.

Although the early morning sunlight is coming through the cottonwood trees to the east as I write, the half moon is visible high in the sky to the south.  The moon keeps us company more than the sun does.  The moon is present in our sky both day and night.  There are only two days of the month when it is not lit up for us by the sun at night, but it is still keeping us company while the sun is absent. 


Hmmm ... and then there's the story of a bad moon rising first told in 1969 and continuing to be told more than 50 years later, carried forward by several generations:

"To us, the song is saying: "Prepare for tough times, but stay positive" -- an important message to share at times like these!" (The Melbourne Ukulele Community)

There's the story of the Whole of the Moon as well:


"... The moon, like a flower
In heaven's high bower,
With silent delight,
Sits and smiles on the night ..."
(William Blake, from "Night" -- Songs of Innocence)


Anonymous said...

Beautiful discovery in that tapestry. What a lovely observation.

Sabine said...

You certainly go off on an amazing journey with one thing leading to the next.

The last (may) full moon was a spectacular red moon visible in the southern hemispheres - not here - but someone sent me this picture from a NZ newspaper, which nicely honours the Waterboys:

Colette said...

Beautiful post. So full of thoughtful love.

37paddington said...

A lovely serendipitous thing, how your support of an artist's work led to a cherished friendship. The light coming through your windows, and the green beyond, looks peaceful.

ellen abbott said...

I would never have seen the father if you hadn't pointed it out. his pants just blend in with the background. back when I was guiding full moons in Big Bend were amazing, no need for flashlights but the nights when the moon was riding through the sky during the day were awesome, when the Milky Way lit up the night sky.

I have a friend in her 80s who weaves but now just kitchen towels, the finest you will ever find. she also has a Do you know Joanne?

am said...

Ellen -- What you experienced in Big Bend with full moons and the Milky Way sounds wonderful. I do know of Joanne from her thoughtful comments on the few blogs I read regularly. Now I remember that she is a weaver.