The feather quilt needs a new cover. Like now. I used the machine to attach a few old clothing scraps. Nothing fancy, a wash and a dry and then I will stitch it by hand on to the comforter. Turkish style. Sewing it right to the edges of the blanket itself and then removing it for washing and then stitching it back. The cover shifts less that way. And the simple chore of resewing it is comforting and not at all difficult to do to do. And as I hung it over the door this morning, preparing to piece the other side, I stopped and thought...that's nice. Just hanging there for now.
So then I hung it here. That's nice too. And it made me think of this which I really like.
It's the time of year we notice change, marvel in the color nature provides, but what about the rest of it? All around me people are scurrying to clean up each leaf as it falls, clipping out each dead branch, sweeping windfall, vacuuming, blowing, removing (with power tools no less) every evidence of change before it has the power to distract them from their daily obsession to put things in some artificial order. Seeds don't even stay long enough to germinate, and if something new and unexpected should sprout, out comes the weedkiller. I wonder what the obsession is with such a false sense of life. Separating oneself from the things that can seemingly answer so many questions .
I was out walking with the camera this morning, thinking that I am so priviledged to be surrounded with process. And the time to consider it.
The best opportunity I ever had was to buy some land and a place of my own in order to put a space between me and the need to be tidy. Still I feel this is the wrong place to try to live this life, I know I will have to go away one day.
Meanwhile I am happy to leave the fallen trees and piles of leave to provide some of my little forest friends some shelter from the coming storms. And to leave my compost out in the open, a snack for scavengers and glimpse of new soil. I think that rotting cantelope is looking back at me.
