A colder morn.
Big Wind. I came to the computer and Typepad was not working. Coffee.
Cloth work is rolled up here. Hibernating.
Somehow, this one, In the Same Boat, is not. And now it's on the wall over the studio table.
Just touching it stirred me.
There are 3 tables, one was cut down a while back and was used as a dye table. I thought, maybe the porch. The man is outside, in his pajamas, putting the legs back on.
The porch studio. The reflection of light through the porch door. The table seems to have a heartbeat. Winter. Months to wait.
