Another month on the stitch journal, and in total (as of today) there are now 92 blocks of meditative stitching, each one witnessing the passing of a little more time.
I’ve deliberately not added space between the days because in reality there isn’t any. Day turns to night and night turns to day, and it is all just time. I continually find myself thinking these are days of my life that have gone forever. Not in a sad way, just noticing the transience and inevitability of it, the impermanence of living. Every day a bit less life left, but every day a bit more life lived. Philip Larkin (‘Days’, 1953) wrote ‘days are where we live…. Where can we live but days?’
I like the way the stitch journal is filling up with these moments, and I like the empty space that stretches ahead.
I wonder what this new month will bring. April is the cruellest month, according to T S Eliot. Everything is growing, leaves are starting to burst from their buds, and another cycle of life begins. In the garden my young flowering currant is looking particularly splendid at the moment, and I like to memorialise these little moments of recognition.
One day at a time, going on.
More beautiful stitching 👍🏻 Wondering what are the dimensions of your cloth?
Thank you 😊 It’s a strip torn from an old cotton/linen sheet, about 10” wide by about 7 or 8 feet long.
Wow
Way across the world in Washington State–on San Juan Island–the sun is shining and my red currant is blooming–and our hummingbirds are buzzing around the bushes—I love your stitching–thanks for sharing
Lovely! We have sunshine in between all the snow and hail showers… it doesn’t seem to be affecting the progress of spring, thankfully 🙂
Hi Karen, I am watching your beautiful daily stitch fabric grow with great pleasure and interest. I am impressed that you have such a variation in the pattern and type of stitches for each section. Do you plan them ahead? Or perhaps they are spontaneous? They are wonderfully inspiring. Thanks so much for sharing it with us all.
Thanks so much, Rosemary. No, there is no plan – as with my life generally. I choose a colour that roughly corresponds with the season/weather/general mood of the day or the moment, thread a needle and see what happens. I don’t like some of the blocks, and if I’d planned it at all I maybe wouldn’t have placed some of the colours and shapes as I have, but I when I set out I wanted it to be random, like the days.
even the unfilled boxes are fascinating …
I wonder what will fill those days
I’m intrigued that something intended to be random – and genuinely looking that way, close up – manages to look so cohesive in a long view. Perhaps because it is somehow very clearly the work of one hand and mind.
Yes, I’m surprised there is a kind of coherence to it. I say there is no plan, but I do look at the previous day/s before stitching the current one, so it’s probably not completely random after all.
Looking great, especially the whole thing. Do you have the dates on the back for posterity?
Thank you 😊 No dates, just a string of days. I’m looking at it as continuous time, not so much as individual events.