The browns & golds quilt is done, along with its matching pillow. I couldn't wait until daylight to take good photos, so I enlisted R's help to take some photos at midnight. I'm proud of this quilt. I stabbed myself many times while hand quilting and came to the conclusion I need some better needles--and maybe protective gear for my poor fingers!

Behind the quilt is a custom playsilk (canopy-sized) by Beneath the Rowan Tree, in case you are curious! I had a little extra Paypal this spring and requested a playsilk that was like a pine and aspen forest.

Monet wanted to wear her grey upcycled cashmere sweater from Reggie's Dolls today. Just like my daughter, who when asked what she would like to wear, asks for her dusty pink jacket. No matter that today it was 108 degrees. You can see Monet's grey sweater peeking out in the photo below.


We had clouds today and I discovered tom yum soup at Trader Joe's in the freezer section and it's vegetarian. I hope it's good because I bought two. Trader Joe's also sells magnificent bags of seeded rolls made with some spelt flour--they are in the freezer section and I was happy they were stocked tonight. Last night I made an impromptu 'creamy' vegetable soup from scratch when the temp slid closer to 100 than 110.

I'm going to cut out the next project before I head to bed for the night. Monet is all ready for bed, and still refusing to remove her sweater! She says it reminds her of brisk days in the garden, and she loves that feeling more than she minds being warm.

Waiting for Rain

Today I uploaded the first seven items straight from Monet's dreams to my Etsy store.


Today Monet woke slightly to find herself in a mesquite tree under another enchanting quilt. She looked down to see a matching skirt. She looked up and the sky bore signs of rain. She smiled and slept again.

In Visible Spectrum

It starts with a dream. Seven trees, their leaves sweet with the end of summer; bees tracing stems and beetles on bark skittering upwards. In the center of a circle of trees, nestled in tall grasses, Monet pulls a quilt over her body--late-afternoon heat is on its way out with the sun's plain descent. Her quilt is fleshy summer leaves aside rubied autumnal counterparts. She closes her eyes and the leaves above have turned, are falling. What she needs is here.

Monet wakes from her dream of leaves and finds I have been dreaming of her: her hair stained with thoughts of lilypads at dark and the water surrounding them. Her eyes are lit violets. Her skin drenched with light. I wake from my dream and find her beside me.


The first quilt materializes, borne of Monet's dreams of leaves and my dreams of Monet. In soft evening, sleep reverie smudges the lines around us; shifts the membrane between realities. Good night, Monet. I am so glad you are here.