a cup of tea
Whew! Back in from the cold ~ walking Lucy who is a hard ship to steer when ther're snowbanks. And old rather grungy ones at that. I could go for a fresh snowfall to clean up the outdoors a bit. The bright light of mornings eventually shifts to the blue hour ~ that hour of dusk when I feel antsy. I find myself waiting for something, unsure what it is. Perhaps it is the vestiges of ancient genetics ~ needing to hustle to be warm and safe before nightfall. Then the mood passes. The evenings take on a different tone, more inward, cozier, warmer. I build the fire, make a cup of decaf tea, tidy, and look for something I can bring from the studio to work with on my lap while I watch an old familiar film ~ a collage I'm sewing is always a good choice. My eyes adjust from sunlight to lamplight. I wait far too long to make dinner and then have to whip up something ravenously. It would be nice to have a cook!
Lately I've been working on altered book poems. My desk is covered with little cut-out words and I have trained myself to not sigh over the work to keep the poems from blowing away ~ one of which is a guest post over at Missouri Bend Studio.
I've also been looking up feathery and owly things, updating my odds & bobs sidebar for january (to the right), and loving my new ozetta scarf.
How's your week going thus far?
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3 comments:
i can SO relate to the ravenous cooking :)
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i can relate to the snowfall cleaning things up a bit. here it feels more like spring. all is melted and the grasses are smashed against the concrete. leftover fall leaves are hiding in corners. sometimes being so focused on beauty makes my life difficult. things can never look to neat or clean, even the yard or my neighborhood.
curiousadventure ~ yes, it happens too much around here! I do best when I have something already made that I can eat right away, or have a little selection of healthy varied munchies to get to.
brigitte ~ we are supposedly getting snow tonight into tomorrow, but I wonder how the weatherman can say it'll be nonstop snow all night but only accumulate to an inch? I hope they're wrong. Have you heard of the book "Wabi Sabi for Artists, Designers, Poets & Philosphers"? Wabi Sabi is sort of the beauty of imperfection. It's an interesting concept, and one which I admire more in the sphere outside of my daily realm. It's easy to see beauty in a tangled wild meadow or an ancient falling-down European town or a bracken-filled wood, and less so in my messy garden or my house, I guess because those I view as an extention of myself? It brings up a lot of interesting observations and questions for me, of tolerance and unfinished things and loose untied ends, and how I feel about them, and why.
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