I imagine that someday, sometime, what I expect to happen just might not. For now, I am grateful to have these ripening tomatoes. And the reassurance of their continuing.
I stitched this early this morning. It is not a 9 patch, but I really like these colors together. I am looking and thinking how one thing might replace another. How that might be less obvious over time. And simply seem like continuing.
I suppose I have just been on vacation from any sense making.Just enjoying being on paper. Being outdoors. Being unplugged.Being healthy. Being somewhat irresponsible when it comes to days and schedules. A kind of UnDoing. But really not at all. Doing a lot of things and just not doing others.
Still filled with intention. Just not explaining it. I've certainly got enough of that behind me. Thinking that whatever is here, or not, might explain itself at this point.
In some simple way. I sense something IN me. The part that endures. That which does not break but bends. Does not break because it bends. Remaining ever useful.
It's a been a long time since I began the cloth we call Home.
So much time has passed. One needle. I woke up thinking that maybe the witnessing of time passing is as important as the cloth itself. (The children have been watching.) To know that it, has in itself, taken on the shape of persistence. Which clearly , on this day, I sense, once again, is the key to new form. And how we learn.
These final days with the cloth, I feel them as the most important. The freeing of the feathers and stones from the main cloth. Being one with that will stay with me forever. There is something special there. I think they have become more immediate as dream catchers. Free.
How dreams bend our waking thoughts. Give us a glimpse of the power of imagination. New eyes.
I look at these strings of feathers. What if I had sewn them all end to end. Would they reach around the world? Probably not you say. In my dreams, most definitely. I wake up. Yes they do. In so many ways not yet counted.
After summer like days it is colder. 48 this morning, it will barely get to 60 today. It's way cold for May, especially at night. The garden is slow. But it's ok. I can just put a sweater on. The caterpillars that have already begun on the oak leaves, cold slows them and sometimes stops them. So ok. Good.
The man and the beast are sleeping in. Not me. Up at 4. I have things I want to do and I am going to do them.
Yesterday, I posted this on Instagram. How the light painted the wall. To look like cloth. I love this. How it happened. How I noticed and caught it. Because now it is gone.
This new camera is different. I have to think more about how pictures work.
The moth was on the window through which this picture was taken. I meant to focus on that. Too close to be in focus without fiddling with settings, . I like how it is confusing for a moment. I think the moth seems bigger because it is blurry. And instead of out of focus it seems to be The Focus here. Funny thing, focus.