Old Sea. In winter.
I can't believe we can walk to this spot. It's all downhill. About a mile. The walk back uphill gets more difficult each year. And more important.Yesterday, I thought to myself...I need to live near the sea.
But I have always lived near the sea. Maybe we think we need what we have, out of habit.
How easily I might slide into a laziness of days. How a lot could slip away and I would be left with just sewing....just going. Yet still holding pattern.
While cleaning and sorting, and exercising less, I've begun to gather a few things for a Paper Sanity Series, mostly loose pages. Paper scraps of self.
