There’s a myth that silk is delicate and that it must always be dry cleaned. Um. No.

Silk is the stuff of vintage parachutes. Would you drift from the sky under something delicate?

Some commercially dyed silk does bleed a lot of color when washed. Isn’t that part of the charm? Isn’t the resulting fabric surprisingly different? Don’t you want streaking and mottling on your fabric?  I sure do!

I’m sorting through my small pile of scrap fabrics, looking for murky shades of violet, aubergine, teal and forest green. I shall wash every one of them to bring out their true (im)perfection.

Isn’t the silk gazaar wondrous?  One layer is murky and translucent, a perfect veil. Two or three layers become opaque, secretive. This fabric demands to be pulled and tucked into layers and washes of color.


Isn’t Spring the perfect season for preparations?

I am an indifferent housekeeper most of the year, but there’s something about spring cleaning that resonates with me. While cloth ideas are tumbling around in my thoughts, I find the rhythm of cleaning and polishing sends me into that light trance state where my best cloth ideas are born.

Is there enough scrap?  I’m fearful that I may not have enough silk to make something interesting in the next workshop with Jude Hill. It’s going to be a small garment, perhaps using one meter of cloth. I don’t quite know its story yet. What is here that I would honor in a piece of cloth?

  • egret
  • waters of the Sound
  • the scraps of gentleness that I cherish in the midst of harshness

What is in my heart that I would honor in a piece of cloth?

  • the moment. this one. the one they call Now
  • peace
  • stillness

Questions and questions.  Only one picture today.  I don’t know what half of these things really look like.