The raw land at the development where I live, offers so many gathering opportunities. In the nice weather, with Nellie on leash, I wander up unpaved hills, onto weedy patches of sand. On any day, I might find rusty nails, twisted rebar, tangled wire and strapping among the rust-colored stone shards and plant life on the path. My favorite find is the overworked saw blades the workers have dulled.
The nails end up in my mordant water, or tucked between folds of fabrics I’ve tied. I also have a plentiful source of oak leaves, (one of my favorite shapes) and feathers from the wild turkeys that have escaped the neighborhood bobcat. Now is the time for fresh windfall in abundance.
I glove, mask and goggle-up to bend metal into a new word house. I wrap and fold and dye cottons in rusty water, onto rusted bolts and wire and sprinkle nails like jimmies on cupcakes. I piece and patch, boro-style, appliqué, cut away and stitch.
I never quite know what I will get, but the earthy colors marble the cloth like volcanoes and storm clouds. It is where I live.