December just showed up as if out of nowhere. I am almost surprised by time's passing today.
There was a lot of quiet stitching and conversation over the weekend. Some fresh air. And not a lot of overeating. A little wine, but I think I am outgrowing that. I am trying to listen to my body more. I need all the energy it has to give at this point.
And with these thoughts I have started to consider the difference between Just Going and Not Just Going and how they both have their place in how season passes.
I am actually tired today because I was on night time fire duty these past days. Awake but slower. Foggy but still in a way clearer about a lot of things.
A whole year has past since I was focused on stars. This was still in the basket and I just kept going with it. Because scraps (of self) are like stars, there are a million of them here by my side at all times. A lot of times the wishes I wish upon them come true. I like the simple exercise of lining them up. Like time travel.
So after two cups of coffee and a bowl of fruit, the fog has lifted and I am on a journey filled with little long cloths for December.
A soft morning. A softer transition than expected. Colder but only a bit.
A November mist, like a curtain separating yesterday from tomorrow. Leftover moisture from the recent warm days. Leaving. I can almost hear it going. And so it will begin. The cold will take hold. We are prepared, yet that feeling of confinement is unavoidable. The strategy for winter this year has more layers. Managing them. All triggered by weather. On the coldest days, the ones with below freezing temperatures, we will again retreat to one room. Saving wood so we can really spread out on more moderate days. Managing it day by day with close attention. Rocking right with it. Undoing schedule and sleeping when it makes the most sense.
My blog schedule will change with the deep cold. Expected soon. I try to make a projection for winter, but instead I decide to stitch the mist. Unsure how to do that really.
The smallest stitch I can manage. A single thread. A Shapeless haze perhaps. With no edge? Mist is confusing, there but not there. And the confusion quickly takes form as a patch of uncertainty.
Simple and clear. Ha. I'll need a lot of these.
So that is how winter might go. There is a beauty in that.
PS for all you travellers joining me in Small Journeys, I added a layer to yesterday's post. That might happen in this season of uncertainty. You might just check the monthly index now and then to catch the order of things.