Cape Cod Poodles and labs

I took so many fun pictures on our little trip, I might just do 4 or 5 posts to share them! 

In this picture, we are windblown and hot from a summer's day on Cape Cod. The land behind us is the very tip of Cape Cod, Provincetown and the very place the Mayflower stopped to let the Pilgrims on land after their long voyage. They went on to Plymouth before settling their new digs. 

A couple days after our visit, Cher hosted a fund raiser for Hillary here. A Cher and Hillary siting would have made a great story!
 I have other pictures of the town, plus some absolutely lovely pics of Cape Cod seashore for later. As well as stories about our adventure. 

At the above moment, we stood for a long time looking at the beach scene in front of us, and watching walkers in the sunset...

 These women obviously walk this beach often as the two dogs were friends and explored the beach together. A lab and a poodle. 
I had a lab and a poodle who loved labs.  (They never got to meet)

I watched them all the way down the beach and back. Darting amid boats beached at low tide, checking out critters together, running ahead, looking back at their people, then coming back to touch their peeps' legs with wet noses. 
Buddies. 
Little bit there had a bandage on his tiny poodle foot. 

 I saw this in town, and it made me laugh. It's a town full of happy dogs and people busy being unique and free. Humor is encouraged here. 

I saw this in a garden of statues next to an art gallery.
It is an Apache Blessing, and it says:
May the sun bring you new energy by day
May the moon softly restore you by night
May the rain wash away your worries
May the breezes blow new strength into your being
May you walk gently through the world and know it's beauty all the days of your life

More to come... LeeAnna

another Cape post here

It's the little things in life....

We just returned from a short car trip to the Boston area.
The above picture is indicative of one of a million small kindnesses my husband shows daily. Thank you my darling. 
This morning, as we step around suitcases, and bags to get to the kitchen and restart our daily lives, Drew got up first, made coffee, poured milk from the heavy new container into the pretty pitcher for me.

 He made coffee, went out to wash the residual poison mosquito spray (my neighbors think we need to poison the atmosphere every three weeks for 6 months a year) from our porch, and took some forms to the bank for me, all to allow me a gentler re-entry into our silent house.

It's the daily, small gestures that make up love.

On our trip we spent a day in lovely, artistic, gentle Cape Cod where I was brought to tears by the landscape. I found myself wanting to move in for a week, with my paints and notebooks.

We spent the next day immersed in American history, visiting Plymouth to see where Pilgrims made a home in an unknown land. Thanksgiving will have new meaning for me this year. We also saw the birth place of one of my favorite presidents, John  Adams. I love that he chose a strong wife, and listened to her.

The final day of our trip was spent in Newport RI, admiring architecture of America's "castles" or the "cottages" / mansions of that yachting town. We were so smitten, we bought a membership ticket so that we would return at the holidays. It's like investing in future beauty.

I had one major meltdown the final evening.
I hoped for a break from pain but it does follow you wherever you go doesn't it? One can have a diversion and that is a good balance for loss. The last day, we walked in Newport, where we went with Cole as a yearling. I think that coupled with our upcoming return to real life, sent me into tears again.

I also wonder on introspection, is my regret and second guessing at our final timing to let Cole go, a way to hold onto him.
 In a strange way.
The keening, the regret of not feeding him more, wondering if we could have done something, anything to keep him safe and comfortable...

It is the final acceptance of a sad situation...we can't always protect and keep those we love. We are human. Life has cycles. There is a limit to what we have control over. All the tears in the world won't push off the inevitable loss. I wonder how life will change once I come to acceptance, one of the stages in grief.

No matter what the loss is, a parent, a flooded out house (poor quiltswissy in Baton Rouge) or a 14 year old poodle-son, the stages of grief are the same.

I thank you all for walking the walk with me as I continue to blog about living the creative life. This is my real life, and I plan to share it here.
I have many pictures to show you involving creativity from our exploration of the Northeast. I hope you stay with me on this journey of life. love, LeeAnna

Summer squares

I decided on a border for my little Summer quilt. All squares finish at 1.5 inches.
I was going to show you lots of choices for the border, but this is done now. It's layered with backing and batting and ready to quilt.

I don't know if you see it but it's a tree, with grass and sky.The blue will be binding.

I finished it before Cole left but have not sewn on it since.

 I sew from the joy in my heart.
Whether it's abstract, or whimsical, realistic, or a bed quilt. It's the same with my paintings, drawings, and all hand made items.  I have not had joy lately, and haven't been able to sew.

I trust in the process, and the drive to create. I know it will return. When it does, I will quilt this lovely piece.

Just for interest, I went through about 20 border possibilities before returning to this one. I knew I wanted to do the squares but my husband said it distracted from the center.

 I ended up ripping out the placement along the borders, mixing in different colors and then I quite liked it.

Sometimes you have to let go of a choice and look at a problem with new vision.

Finding the Muse #11 pretty colors and colorful friends

About a month ago,  my friend Maggie (funkydiva)  spent a wonderful day together. She was in the DC area visiting her son, and she and I needed to have an adventure. We went to Savage Mill for shopping and lunch.

Here we are showing attitude! There are some people who just fit.
 Doesn't matter that we only see each other on rare occasions... I know she's there. I love her. She is very inspiring... she encourages everyone to be their unique self.

She likes to alter clothes and furniture, I like painting and quilting, and we both love, LOVE, bright colors and strongly believe in the power of self expression.

Today I thought I would share some eye candy with you. I love whimsy. I like a fun look at life. Check out these martini glasses... here's looking at you, kid!

How about this clock?
Teapots to tell you it's time for a cuppa

Time.. my previous vet in Tampa used to say sometimes the best medicine is "tincture of time"

That's all that can help me now. I've been very sad with our loss.
I haven't been able to work.
The other day I looked up and was stunned at the beauty of back lit clouds... that's a good sign.

Color. Color is stimulating and happy. It is refreshing. Maggie paints old furniture with many colors and puts fabric on it for bursts of pattern. I can't imagine having all that color in one house... very exciting. I am really inspired by the middle plate. The others have pattern to try in fabric too.

I wanted an unusual picture of us, so here we are in the mirror, surrounded by funky old furnishings, laughing.
It's a gift to have a friend you can both laugh and cry with... right? She shared my news of Cole ( who was close to the end when we got together) and we talked of art, family, travel.

We found some painted muslin dolls to make, and have challenged each other to make one soon.
Friends. Color. Colorful friends... all very inspiring.

An open thank you for love

our last day... my face shows the hours of crying that morning

We want to take this opportunity to thank you all. Thank you for upholding us with shared tears, with words of kindness, with love and with prayers. Cole's Dad read each email and comment with gratitude.

We passed the two week mark on Friday, but seems like two years worth of tears.

The fact that Cole was not human does not diminish the fact that Love is love. Loss is loss and a hole in your heart takes time to heal. It will take some more time to work through the stages of grief.

 I loved Cole. I work at home, not that I can work these days.

Every time I look at a clock I say " 1pm! Still? Only 1? Then 2? Only 2? Still?

I've managed to get through the days. I burst into tears Friday, had to just leave the empty house, and to walk. It's 105 deg with oppressive humidity. I realized later that  was at 3, the time of our appt two weeks earlier,  when I said goodbye.

from Nancy

 I believe I am coming to feel less guilty for agreeing to the shot. I am coming to the necessity of it. I was also thinking about my lab Chelsea. She also had cancer and was really at the end when we took her in. She was so tired she did not have energy to fight it and yet I felt the wrenching pain of deciding life and death for her.  It was even harder for Cole.

People say "you'll know when..." but that is not always true.
I knew for Chelsea but not Cole because he was strong aside from the tumor blockage.  He fought it, didn't want to go, wanted me to save him and run from the vet.

Even when you know what must be done, when nothing else can save them from more pain, you might (like me)  feel guilty for making the decision to let go.

Cole and I had a bond, a communication between us. It took me by surprise, that he made his thoughts known to me so readily. It's such a loss. We are going thru toys,  and throwing away old pillows he slept (bled) on, and meds, and treats half eaten. Each is letting go. Peeling my "fingers" off him. Slogging through a stage of grief.

True to how he always was, he sent a strong message to dig those found balls out of the trash and make a cairn for him out back.
 I always said he was like a 6 year old boy, who might come home with all kinds of found treasures in his jeans pockets. Cole kept his poodle eyes open on walks, and came back with odds and ends, and often balls found on the road then carried for a mile home. He loved his found objects and would check each time leaving the house that they were where he left them by the door! I stacked three of these out back and enjoy seeing them too.

hand felted poodle from Monika at tailsaroundtheranch

 Your kindnesses have held me up, when waves of loss wash over.
I can touch the cards, the gifts of art, and read your words in emails.

See the magnet from Oscar and the fiberart post card from Carol, the black dog from Maria and the felt Cole from Monika

Funny, we used to say things like, we'll travel when Cole leaves us. The irony is we don't feel like traveling without him. We won't have to seek a dog hotel. We won't take a water bowl or be stopped by tourists to take a picture, or have people ask to pet the fluffy poodle. We won't get to see him shopping in a new town, or see his glee while running, or watch him sniff each blossom on a bush. We hope to get away soon, to see if we can find healing in another place.

 Momma's good boy... may you have fluffy clouds to lay on, lots of ice cream, critters to watch, and angels to hold your paw and remind you we didn't want to let go... but now you can soar.

Cole left two posts for everyone. One is "Cole's Capers... getting a massage at the spa" and one is "Don't pen me in!--or--Momma come to bed!"  I hope to post these this week, to honor him in the way he reached you all to begin with... through his humor and fun.
I was not able to look at pictures until now.


I am writing more stories from his youth... and he was hilarious. What a happy strong smart boy he was! Those will go in a book.

For now, know I appreciate each one of you for reaching out to me, even if I couldn't respond right away.
Your words and the tangible love you sent means so much. Bless you.

Finding the Muse in tiny pieces of fabric #10

I am not myself these days.
I am however trying to find my way through the days, and trying to return to a love of art.
This little abstract was quilted before I said goodbye to Cole. I needed to be around people so when I went to my sewing group on Monday, I took it to bead.

This piece finishes at 9" square.I was inspired by the smallest of little batik scraps. It shows why I like odd shapes. Some people like to cut all scraps into squares and strips. Not me. I love the serendipity of the odd shape, the line created with a gentle curve. The surprise as colors are repeated at random, then create a scene... to me this is the forest floor, with flowers.

There is a LOT of free motion quilting in a tiny piece. Repeated lines echoing a shape, an organic feather surround what I see as a stem in purple. It is a process, random piecing with a mood in mind. It becomes what I want without making a plan.

You can see my favorite machine stitch, placed just so on sections of border with variegated rayon thread.

Also notice the lovely leaves given me by a bee mate. I originally wanted two words on metal bits, "wander" and "peace" but while moving beads around on the finished quilt, allowed myself to change my mind. They did not add to it, so I changed direction.

The flowers have a variety of seed bead centers to keep them on. There are also little groupings of seed beads scattered around like french knots. Iridescent sequins create a subtle sparkle of a vine.

Inspiration: tiny fabrics, nature, and a need to sew again. I do not feel like sewing but I need to take steps out of this depression. For the pictures I pinned it to the design wall, and noticed the tiny button that lives on the fleece wall that says "grow"

Who tells the universe?

Doesn't the Earth know what happened?

It's all different--the World changed last week

Everything is different.
Even time changed. Each minute became like days.
Days of grief and emptiness.
Waves of guilt at making a final decision mix with loss. 

The World continues to turn however, people go to work, they move around me in a slightly blurred way.

I move slowly as if stepping gently will ease the pain.

I had to eat. My stomach hurt all the time for three days, then hurt half the time, then only to remind me to eat.

I hated eating. I hated dinner time coming around as if nothing had changed. It is so trivial... eating. Just a necessity.
Chew. Swallow. Eating seems like a celebration but it should have a black cloth over it instead of being happy.

Hours must be filled but not with normal activity. What can possibly override the pain??

I wander.
I drive to shops to leave the empty house.
I wander past brightly colored fabrics, past books I can't read, past pretty clothes and it has no meaning.
It fills an hour.

The tears surprise me. Hot intense tears.
I pick up and hug his duck toy. I see a chewed up ball he found on a walk and brought home hiding beneath a bush next to the front door. He knew certain toys were outside toys.

The squirrels romp in a now poodle-free yard.

Meal time rolls around regularly.


I have some old funny posts Cole wrote before he left. I have much to tell you all, those who came to know and love my son Cole's wit and kindness. I am writing a celebratory post of his life.
I am also writing a book. But...
I can't write now. 
My world is empty, my heart is broken.