And on the other side of the room, there are curtains and fabric art I made (and more than two people can dine in comfort).Hooray for home decorating!
*No, I haven't finished any sewing this week. Can you tell?
And on the other side of the room, there are curtains and fabric art I made (and more than two people can dine in comfort).



(Click the image to see it bigger--every speck of light you see is a galaxy.)I drove on to the Oxnard cut-off and turned back along the ocean. The big eight-wheelers and sixteen-wheelers were streaming north, all hung over with orange lights. On the right the great fat solid Pacific trudging into shore like a scrubwoman going home. No moon, no fuss, hardly a sound of the surf. No smell. None of the harsh wild smell of the sea. A California ocean. California, the department-store state. The most of everything and the best of nothing. Here we go again. You’re not human tonight, Marlowe.
All right. Why should I be?...Who am I cutting my throat for this time? ...All I know is that something isn’t what it seems and the old tired but always reliable hunch tells me that if the hand is played the way it is dealt the wrong person is going to lose the pot. Is that my business? Well, what is my business? Do I know? Did I ever know? Let’s not go into that. You’re not human tonight, Marlowe. Maybe I never was or ever will be...Maybe we all get like this in the cold half-lit world where always the wrong thing happens and never the right.
Now, wait a minute...You’ve got the wrong attitude, Marlowe. You’re not human tonight.



See what I mean?
At the winter's midnight(from "Burning the Christmas Greens," 1944, discovered here.)
we went to the trees, the coarse
holly, the basalm and
the hemlock for their green
At the thick of the dark
the moment of the cold's
deepest plunge we brought branches
cut from the green trees
to fill our need, and over
doorways, about paper Christmas
bells covered with tinfoil
and fastened by red ribbons
we stuck the green prongs
in the windows hung
woven wreaths and above pictures
the living green. On the
mantle we built a green forest
and among those hemlock
sprays put a herd of small
white deer as if they
were walking there. All this!
and it seemed gentle and good
to us. Their time past,
relief! The room bare. We
stuffed the dead grate
with them upon the half burnt out
log's smoldering eye, opening
red and closing under them
and we stood there looking down.
Green is a solace
a promise of peace, a fort
against the cold (though we
did not say so) a challenge
above the snow's
hard shell. Green (we might
have said) that, where
small birds hide and dodge
and lift their plaintive
rallying cries, blocks for them
and knocks down
the unseeing bullets of
the storm. Green spruce boughs
pulled down by a weight of
snow--Transformed!
(My holiday cards this year.) 
and "Mitsi," a standard print. Both will be dresses worn with colored tights. 



And here's something to ponder while you look at it, from the Upanishads:
It's the same pattern as this one from June (adapted from the Built By Wendy Dresses book), with longer sleeves to make it more cold-weather appropriate.
I finally have chairs to go with that table--and for the first time in my adult life, I can entertain more than a total of two for dinner!