A Sonnet for my Tree

Last week's make was inspired by a new goal I have set for myself: to read all of Shakespeare's plays by the time Jason finishes seminary. I decided to do this for two reasons: 1) because my exposure to Shakespeare is embarrassingly thin and 2) to slow the intellectual atrophy that ensues from a job that is not intellectually challenging. So far, I've read The Tempest and The Two Gentlemen of Verona, and I'm working on Troilus and Cressida. Reading so much iambic pentameter moved me to write a sonnet last week. But what to write about? I decided since I've already developed the metaphor of my tree--and since it's such an apt metaphor for my life at the moment--to write a sonnet about that. It's definitely not the most brilliant piece I've ever written. My writing is rusty. But the point was just to write something, start to finish. So without further disclaimer or ado, here it is:

I've heard it said, "The fruit defines the tree."
What shall we say when branch and leaf and root
Are all the measure that our eyes can see?
How shall we name the tree without the fruit?
We may be tempted to assign the blame
Of lacking crop to inactivity
And say the tree does not deserve a name
If idle is what it decides to be.
But if this is our verdict, we despise
The very work by which the fruit is won:
How desperately the root for water cries,
How faithfully the sapling seeks the sun.
If day by day, the tree is slowly grown
In season, by its fruit it will be known.

The Hard Work of Treedom

After many hours of sulking in my stumpedness, after dozens of ideas touched down upon and just as quickly discarded, after much frustrating and philosophical pondering on the question "what is beauty?", I finally have my submission for Kalos. I don't know how well it answers the question. In the end, I decided to do something that I could do well and that meant something to me. But before we get to the the philosophical reasoning behind my creation, let's start with the process, shall we?

I chose to finish a wall-hanging of a sun, a tree, and a river that I started a few months ago. It's a collaboration of applique and embroidery...because my hand-sewing is so impeccable. Once I had the fabrics chosen and the pieces cut, I had to sew them together. Of course all the lovely curves meant I had to sew all of the fabric onto my muslin base by hand, turning under the edges as I went.

After many hours of tiny little stitches, it was time for...more tiny little stitches. I did the top of my tree with a stem stitch and finished off the rest of the tree with stitches I don't know the names for. At this point, I'd just like to brag a little. The mark of good embroidery is that the back looks just as good as the front. This is the back:

And the front:Pretty good, right? Yeah, I know. :o)

Here is the completed panel (on my pretty mosaic coffee table):

I felt like it needed a border, so I added brown fabric from a curtain I found in the "As-Is Bin" at Ikea. (Oh how I love Ikea!) Once the border was attached, I cut out a brown back panel and a layer of batting so the back wouldn't show through my white muslin front. I sewed the front, batting, and back together inside-out like a pillow because at that point I couldn't decide whether it would be a pillow or a wall-hanging. (That also saved me from adding a binding around the edges, which would have been...more tiny little stitching.) In the end, I decided on a wall-hanging, so I stitched a sleeve of fabric onto the back, fed a dowel through the sleeve, and hung it on my bedroom wall. So here, again, is [a not stellar picture of] the finished product:
And now for the deep metaphorical explanation:
I began this project with the intention of hanging it over the door of my apartment. It would symbolize the three words Jason and I have engraved in our wedding bands: grace, truth, warmth. We decided that those were the virtues we wanted our marriage to embody: to be gracious to each other always, quick to listen, quick to forgive; to be grounded in the Truth and to always be honest with each other; and to be warm, gentle, and comforting to each other as well as having a welcoming and hospitable home. So my little wall-hanging has a river for grace, a tree rooted by that river for truth, and a sun for warmth. In addition to being a scene of serenity and beauty, what it represents is a shared life of those three virtues, and I believe that that qualifies as beauty, too. But there are more layers to the imagery. In talking to Jason about my idea, he pointed out that the images I planned to make were also very Trinitarian: the Father is the sun, the Son is the tree, and the Spirit is the river.

The day I finally decided to go ahead with this idea, I was reading psalm 1, which talks about "a tree firmly planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in its season and its leaf does not wither." That little phrase "in its season" stuck out to me. Normally, I instinctively discard the terminology of "seasons" when it is used in Christian circles. I throw it out with "this too shall pass" and "God is in control" and other such cliches. But when I read psalm 1 the other day, I was struck by this tree and its seasons. It is rooted by the stream. It's where it is supposed to be. And because of that, it stays alive. It goes through photosynthesis. It recycles the CO2 in the atmosphere into oxygen. It provides shade for a picnic or an afternoon of climbing to a child. But all that is not the glory of a tree. The Bible says, "You will know a tree by its fruit." A tree's glory and its identity, the full mark and celebration of what the tree is, is its fruit. But sometimes...the tree is just a tree. It isn't always yeilding fruit. More often than not, the tree is building up sugar, storing it until the time is right for the fruit to grow and ripen. And in the mean time, the tree does the more simple, mundane acts of treedom... stretching its branches towards the sun, digging its roots deeper into the soil, pulling at the current of the river for a drink. And in all this reaching and stretching and striving, the tree's reward is to gain a little growth for itself and see its shade enjoyed, it branches climbed, and its leaves thoughtlessly torn off or chewed up! But someday, in its season, sure enough, the tree will yield fruit. And on that day, there will be no doubt what kind of tree it is.

The tree in my wall-hanging is fruitless at the moment. It is doing the hard work of stretching and reaching and growing, with little visible results. But it's where it's meant to be. It's doing the work it was made to do. And someday, it will burst forth into color and produce a rich harvest that makes all the stretching and striving make sense. And maybe on that day, I'll make another wall-hanging that displays the tree in all its rich and fruitful glory. Both scenes, I think, have something to say about beauty, maybe even more so the simple than the ostentatious. Because the struggle, the mundane day-to-day, all the hours of work and anticipation, are what eventually yield the harvest.

You spin me right round, baby.

This past week, I deviated a bit from my goal of "one project, start to finish, every week." But some projects are worth an extra week or two, especially if you're starting from scratch. So last week, while Jason was out of the house for an evening of Ticket to Ride with some friends, I stayed home, put on Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2, and did some spinning. I got the tension on my spinning wheel just right and ended up with some of the most beautiful, delicate, even, 2-ply hand-spun yarn ever, if I do say so myself. Okay, maybe not ever, but still pretty dang good. Now all I need is a week or two at home to gather some plants and make some dye in a cast iron pot over a fire in the backyard. Then, once the wool is dry, I need a solid couple of days (and some patience) to sit down with Amy or my mom and actually learn how to knit something other than straight knit-stitch scarves. I don't really enjoy the knitting part, which is probably why I stopped at the yarn-making step last week.
But I do very much enjoy spinning. The gentle rhythm of my double treadle, the changing texture as I stretch the soft roving and feel it tighten under my fingers as it spins, the tension of hold and release as the yarn is pulled onto the bobbin, the reminder that I will produce good results if I can just keep my feet from speeding too quickly ahead. It's simple, therapeutic, relaxing work.
I forget all that when I let the wheel rest too long gathering dust in my living room. It becomes a mere decoration, an accessory. My eyes glance over it as something that naturally belongs in my home because I grew up with spinning wheels in the living room, on the bend in the staircase, in my mother's bedroom, in the barn. I'm always surprised when guests come over, and that is one of the first things they comment on. "What is that? Is that a spinning wheel? Like in Rumpelstiltskin? Can you work it?" It makes me grateful for my parents, the rich tradition of craftsmanship they raised me in, the value they placed on taking the time to start from scratch, and the skills that they taught me to honor and preserve history with my hands.

What Is Beauty?!?

(Disclaimer: I have my post for last week's make drafted. I just need to get some pictures. So although I am looking ahead, I am not falling behind. End disclaimer.)

In the mean time, I'm having some trouble with this week's make. A few people at Gordon-Conwell have started up a literary arts journal for (and by) our seminary community. It's called KALOS, which is the Greek word for beautiful...I think. (You'll have to ask Jason if you want a more accurate and complete definition.) The theme for the Fall issue is "What is beauty?" And submissions are due on Monday. I've been thinking about this for almost 2 months, and I am stumped.

There's a good possibility that I'm making it far too complicated. I'm sure that the theme is open-ended and generic because they're looking to comprise a journal that is full of beautiful things, a kaleidoscopic cornucopia of beauty. But I don't just want to make something beautiful. I want my submission to say something about what beauty is. Something symbolic and deeply meaningful and profound. The world is wide open to me: I could sew, embroider, felt, knit, crochet, applique, draw, paint, write, carve, or do any combination of those things. As long as I can send it as a jpeg or a document, it qualifies. I have the tools and the skills and the time. I even have a frame--remember that old mirror frame I got at the White Elephant? What better to frame a piece on beauty than an old mirror? I know. Perfect, right? But I just don't know what to do.

I need some help, some collaboration, some brainstorming. Does anyone have an idea for me? Or even just an answer to the question, "what is beauty?" I think that beauty is anything that moves a person to worship. Like when rays of sunlight peek out of the clouds, that is beautiful, and I think, "Wow. God is pretty awesome." Or when I'm eating popcorn, I notice how every kernel is different, and I think, "How cool is God that He would create something as wonderful and varied as popcorn?" That is beautiful. Or when I talk to a person who has a rich story, full of struggle and redemption, together with them, I can celebrate God's faithfulness. That is beauty personified. But how do I turn those thoughts into a jpeg? Using creative media that no one else will think to use? Making a profound statement that is beautiful in meaning and also pleasing to look at? Like I said, stumped. Can I get a little help here?

Catching Up 2: Funfetti!

The Saturday after my menorah project was Jason's birthday! Remember? I said I was probably going to be baking something but that Jason wanted a confetti cake so I may have to try to find something else that didn't come from a box? Well, Jason was not about to be persuaded from his dessert of choice, so while he watched the final game of a very exciting Bulls-Celtics series, I set to work on his confetti cake. Wanting to make it at least a little more exciting for myself, I asked how he wanted the cake shaped. Bundt pan? Double-layer round cake? Cupcakes? But Jason (being very much my "compliment"--aka opposite) just wanted a flat cake in a 9x13. Really? Yes. Why? Because it makes for better serving sizes. Humph...how very practical.

But it was his birthday, so I gave the man what he wanted. To make myself feel a little better, I flipped the cake out of the pan so I could at least frost the sides and put it on a pretty plate. Ahh...that's better.
Jason was happy with his cake, and that's what matters most.
I really shouldn't give him too much of a hard time. For my birthday, I asked for pancakes. Big surprise there.
This just goes to show you that compatibility does not mean finding someone just like you to share your life with. (How boring would that be?!?) Rather, it's about finding someone who loves you for all your little quirks and who you love for all of theirs...someone who will make pancakes or confetti cake to celebrate you, even if they don't completely understand. So happy birthday to my wonderful funfetti-cake-loving husband. You complete me.

Catching Up 1: You Light Up My Life

I know, I know. It's shameful that I'm so behind. But better late than never. April 19-25, I was on the youth group Philly trip, which did not leave much/any time for making anything. I believe before I left, I said I was going to "make the best of it," which I did, and in the long run, it's good that I went (even though I am still making up time at work for vacation days I didn't have and will be doing so until the beginning of June. Lovely.). Anyway, by Sunday night, I had a bit of energy, so Jason and I put on a movie (Ocean's 11 maybe? 12? 13? I don't remember) and painted together. And this is what we painted:
Jason found these little beauties in some very convenient little kits at the Target dollar spot back in February or thereabouts. He brought them home as a little surprise with the promise that we would paint them together at some point. After a week of wrangling small town high schoolers and junior highers in the very urban context of west philly, but still wanting to make something, this seemed like the perfect time to whip out the menorahs. Relaxing, creative, kinda silly face time with my husband. Exactly what I needed.

So this is the infamous project which brought me back to me ethnic roots. Even though I sadly know very little about Jewish culture, I am quite proud of the fact that my mom's mom was Jewish, which means that by blood, I am among "the chosen." I know. You're jealous. Don't worry...I've heard something or other about a "new covenant" so you're probably covered, too. L'chai-im!

Slacker

Well, it has officially happened. I am a slacker. I haven't posted in over a week. And I didn't make anything last week. I spent most of my free time cleaning my apartment (which was an absolute pit), and Megan, Justin, and Josiah (aka cutest and best baby ever) came to visit for the weekend. It was so great having them here, showing them our little Port away from Port, and getting some face time with my baby nephew. But by the end of the weekend, I was too tired to create. I started an embroidery hoop wall art project...but then I was seized by a fit of fabric misering. One of the biggest issues I have with creating with fabric is that my stash is limited, and when I have a fabric I really love, it's an emotional battle to cut it up and use it. Silly, I know. Something I have to get over, absolutely. But a hindrance nonetheless...as was the fact that it was 10:30 on Sunday night. (Note: my weeks for weekly makes run Monday-Monday. I find it easier to do projects when my weekends are kept intact.)

But despite not making anything last week, it did mark a small sort of victory. Last week was the first week in fourteen weeks that I didn't make something. And I'm pretty excited about that accomplishment because consistency hasn't always been my strong point. So I'm starting up again this week with fresh energy, refusing to beat myself up or try to catch up. Just moving forward.

In the mean time, I still owe you my ethnic roots post and Jason's birthday post. Coming soon to a blog near you. :o)