My mother has passed away now. Little momentos from her house now in mine, the photos she kept on her sideboard, nic nacs, little statues of cats and some of her paintings. I feel like she is living here now, its just that I cannot talk to her any more which is very sad. I always rang her on a Saturday morning, she would be doing the washing and sometimes did not take too kindly to me upsetting her little routine.
More rusted fabric under the Pfaff today, she is the only machine who will sew the quarter inch lines I love to use on my quilts. I wrapped more fabric earlier in the day with rusted pieces to see what happens, its always a surprise. I love that part about rusting, waiting to see the metal pieces leave their marks, it is like time marking a landscape to me, pitting it, staining it. The machine carves lines into the fabric, dimension, time passing.