birds at night

So, working a bit more on the youngest of the UFOs, the "birds" -- which has in its longish progression stopped having so much to do with nests. It is rather about this simple thought:

At night, there are birds in the trees.
You can't see them. You can't hear them (ordinarily.) But think,
all the birds you see everywhere, every day --
they're all hidden in the branches at night.

So the piece is a kind of landscape, several landscapes, as much"fabric collage" as "quilt" in execution I suppose. I'd upload a shot of where it's at right now, but I'm too lazy. It's been beautiful weather today, breezy and warm. The sewing room window is still open, and I can hear the wind in the pine trees, the bells chiming on the clothesline. It's lovely. I have a terrible cold, which does put a damper on things. Still. Spring.

And out there among the whispering boughs, tiny silhouettes and quiet wings.

nest

I found a palm-sized bit of nest in a hedge, one morning this week. It was something from last year, plainly, shredded by a bird as it foraged for new materials with which to rebuild for the spring. Dirty and wind-frayed around the edges, still the construction was fascinating. A large quantity of 20-pound test fishing line was included, as well as a strand of black plastic and a variety of dried bits of grass and thin muddy twigs. The best part though -- I found the nest near the beauty school, and the bulk of the bundle is woven from gray hair, human hair. A soft lining, warm when it was still clean and comfortable, undoubtedly collected near the Aveda building's trash bins. Someone's hair, trimmed off and swept away, put to new purpose by a sparrow of the city.

kindergarten quilts - finally done!

Blocks designed and partially constructed by my son's fellow students. I finished them with batting, backing and quilting. The next step is to tie them all together (in class) to form a single large "quilt" of about 32" by 55". The quilt will be displayed in the classroom for 2 weeks, and then moves to MPS headquarters in April.

Something wonderfully archeological, polluted and awful, and strangely beautiful about the end of winter in Minneapolis.