It was a long week, even before it was Thursday (now Friday).  Bruce has been traveling into LA each day for an install that’s proved difficult, and I’ve been struggling with arthritis pain.  We’ve both been tired and preoccupied.

He called on his way home last night – “I’m just at the bottom of the grade, do you want me to stop and pick anything up?”

Leo and Duchess faithfully attended church every Sunday. At this church, communion was generally passed among the pews by the ushers, but this Sunday my dad decided to serve communion at the altar rail.

It started with the word “rest”…

In Medieval times, Lent was a season of strict fasting. During Lent, no animal products of any types were to be consumed, except on Sundays.

Every year I pick a word to help focus my intentions.

We had been discussing getting chickens since our little dog died in the first year of the pandemic. I started looking and chicken coop plans, trying to find something that would fit in the space we had in our suburban backyard. It was all a little overwhelming for a couple that is better at software than hardware (me - fiber, yarn, fabric; him - computer).

I am fortunate to be able to weave. And sew, and spin, and garden, and cook. I am fortunate to do all these things I love, because if I had been born a generation earlier it wouldn’t have been possible.

If you are paying attention, you can find rainbows everywhere!

I’ve been dyeing of for days in search of the perfect gradient rainbow for my next weaving project.

Preparing marigold blossoms for dyeing.

Scenes from the vegetable and dye garden.

“Pharaoh hardened his heart.” Those are the words that I woke up thinking today.

Sure, when the plague hits it’s all “pray to the Lord for me, Moses.” And Moses does. And things get better for a while. Then it’s “Pharaoh’s heart was hardened.” Again.

I haven’t said anything about the shooting in Buffalo, or the church in Orange County, or any of the mass shootings last week that didn’t seam to make it into the national news. Not just haven’t said anything on social media. I haven’t said anything at all. Because anything I tried to say would come out as a scream. I am struck dumb - I have no words.

“Are you looking for a new hobby?” the Sponsored Post in Instagram asked. The picture showed a group of smiling 30-something blond women. They were gathered around a table filled with crafting supplies, ready to dig in.

I was working in long term disaster recovery following one of our local wildfires, on an intake call with a fire survivor, an older woman who had lost her home and everything in it in the fire. The intake call was meant to find out the basics of her situation and then refer her to one of our Disaster Case Managers. In this case, however…

In my last post, we looked at the concepts of justice and mercy from an anthropological perspective using a highly simplified example featuring a fictional group called…

I have been thinking a lot lately about justice and mercy. I promise to get back to weaving soon, but for now I am weaving with words.

There are patterns in the music I listen to as I weave. When I weave purple for Lent or Advent, I tend to listen to…