The What-iffers and I , we have spent a bit of time slowly thinking about white, the sense of it, as light and looking through. Cloth as a dream state. I am caught in the thought this morning that something as invisible as wind has come to have a texture. Still as light as a feather....
The Wind robe has been a curtain these last days, but it is a Summer Robe and it might be time to tie up some of the looser ends and prepare it for the garden strolls that might happen if the chill ever leaves this part of the woods. This chill is lingering a bit too long. Even the most practiced grow impatient.