Here we are.
Right here, a not so cold (so far) November.
Feeling grateful for so many things.
Looking forward to the longer view as leaves fall.
This season brings, again, new eyes.
Story takes time to tell. Maybe we might all find quiet kindness, resting in places in between the words, sharing what moved/moves though us, while imagining new possibilities for how it all might happen.
A small cloth but a zillion thoughts. And mostly a reminder.
I promise myself that if things don't work out, I will be OK.
A promise doesn't have to be a punishment. Things change. A promise can be a reminder. Of how it goes. For a while. I imagine promises piling up over time, like scraps of self. Loose patches. I keep them in my own way. I stitch them together. Sometimes I look at them as crazy moments given another shot at sanity.
Acorns have been falling.
Mostly encouraged by squirrels.
I've been thinking about my folks. It always comes in between seasons. The two acorns reminded me of them. Together. Through whatever was.
Yes it's been a bit cooler. But this week will be hotter still. And humid. I always remember the late heat that often coincided with going back to school. The hot un-airconditioned classrooms. The difficulty concentrating. How Dad would be home waiting to whisk us off to the beach for a late swim. Like a little bit extra summer vacation.
I stitched a moon cabin. Because I am preparing for my Patchwork in Perspective. I'm looking back fondly at my patched past. Gathering. Documenting. Reconsidering its use to give it wholeness. There's a bit of Mom's wedding dress in there. The silk velvet. Dyed blue like the old sky. She gave it to me and said make something out of it, make it useful. I could have altered it and made it into a dress. But I don't much wear dresses. I like it better like this. Holding the late August moon. For all of us. Part of the bigger basket.
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