Seems we got most of the April showers in two dreary drippy days, but now the green haze has arrived. Many tiny greens have formed. Soul-o is out this morning, UnDoing his winter sense of the world. Cautious yet delighted. He is on bug patrol. I might just add Bugs to his list of nicknames. Hey Bugs!
Still not stitching much, still nursing a swollen hand. A couple of days ago, I tacked this down to a gridded background. I am enjoying imagining the meeting place of the two very different network systems. At first I thought two patterns. One free the other planned. But then I rethought that. The ugly pink thread found at the bottom of the copper dyepot, which was used all winter and is now dumped and cleaned, turned a deep brownish green. Many cold winter nights, many peelings, many boilings. Now Green. Nice. And while I typed this, I made many yypos typos, which you know I do. I typed dyepot as dyepoet. That old copper pot, a DyePoet, maybe that's not so wrong. DyePoet it is. I love naming things.
I have been a been confused lately. Nothing new for me. I tend to live there. I have been using that word confusion. I thought about that more. As a a place. And then a space. And now a motion. And although sometimes it seems not the best way to feel, I think it is a bit like the way all those little greens formed. Or the DyePoet. It's a swirly rocking place, but you hold on for a bit, you can go there, because you might sense a transformation about to happen. You might see after all it's a breathtakingly beautiful privilege to witness one thing about to become another. That it will happen over and over again. I might redefine that word Confusion, as the sense of possibility.