To prepare a dye bath, one must carefully weigh the fabric, measure dye powder, chemical catalyst, water, salt and then combine them in a particular order, being careful not to splash or stain. But once the fabric is in the bath, an almost instantaneous and (to me) endlessly magical transformation occurs.
One color becomes another, the density and hand of the fabric changes.
Each fabric takes the dye up a little differently, so that when dyeing a piece made with more than one type of material, one can end up with shades of color, one of the reasons I love to garment dye.
On my morning walks with Stella, I’m seeing plants of all kinds waking up, budding, blooming. Sometimes it feels as if it’s happening before my eyes, as instantaneous and magical as the dye bath.
We walk through our neighborhood, past large brick houses with stately manicured lawns, past a church, a daycare, a school, the homes abruptly becoming more modest, some with old vinyl chairs on the porch, some with wind chimes, painted eggs hanging in a tree.
We wind our way up a hill, past planned greenways and places wild from neglect, and slowly the yards and houses get bigger again, two storied or long low ranch style.
And of course, Rucha and I have experienced a transformation of a sort, having had another birthday. 38, hard to imagine, that I’m so close to 40. It’s bittersweet, leaving my 30’s, becoming truly an adult (ha!). Kirk got me flowers, which are still blooming, beautifully, on the dining table.