original inspiration

My mother is, for me, a source of original inspiration. So many of the beautiful objects I choose to keep around me stem in some way from my mother. I appreciate the sweet detail in an ornate ceramic vessel that I keep my rings in because such items were a treasure when I was a child in my mother's home. Eyelet cotton will always hold a special category in my fabric stash because my mother used it lovingly to trim the under-dresses of my childhood wardrobe. The plants in the garden, I chose some of them because I spotted them first in my mother's garden - some of the actual plants at my house, came from hers. Even the children's favorite pj pants came from the hands of my mother. The apron which hangs in Hana's kitchen, I think I dreamed of it as I passed the fabric to my mother, not knowing what surprise she had in mind to sew for her granddaughter gift. The list is long; I mean it when I say that she is at the stem of so much of what I hold dear.It is not only the spirit of her taste that surrounds us here. Like the pj's and Hana's apron, many parts of our home include my mother's handiwork. Last week, Theresa posted pictures of a celebratory give-away: a bag made from a primative rug-hooked bag which she made (I think she can make anything!) The photos of the bag and the design elements reminded me of the rugs my mother has hooked for our home. She hooked the star rug for Koji; it lays beside his bed. Santa and his sheep graces our front door come winter. I gifted my mother the kit to hook the bouquet rug (designed by Margaret Shaw), and she turned around and returned it to me, completed! It graces Hana's play kitchen. The sheep visiting a bluebird was a gift to me. And the little girl, well that's Hana rendered in wool from a drawing my mother's friend drew onto a burlap canvas for my mother to hook!

Now, I'm sure I would love and treasure these rugs just because they were made by my mother, but I'm also certain that I love them for how they fit in our home, as I choose to fill it. The way they agree with me/us is so complex: aesthetically, the materials, their handmaded-ness (!), their longevity, the love in every stitch. It all makes perfect sense to me: my mother is in these rugs, my mother is in me, therefore I love these rugs. It is a continual back and forth of inspiration and love, and I am so grateful for it.

Thank you, Mom! I love you.