Day 2: About a Wall

I garden in raised beds.  Billy and Clutch take the "bed" part very seriously.

The garden butts up against a low stone wall that Himself made on his 40th birthday.  Last summer, we replaced the chicken wire that Billy kept pulling down (just to sit in some dirt???) with a dream-come-true fence, made to our thoughts by "Outside the Box" Steve.... a shameless bribe from Himself to make me stop hollering about moving to get away from The Evil Neighbor.

Which still didn't stop this.

So Himself, not anywhere near 40 anymore, took it upon himself to make more wall. He locked each piece of good ole Pennsylvania river rock to another, stone by stone, row by row.  The rocks were laid out all over the place, he paced back and forth till he found the right one. Or hurled it off if it didn't work and began pacing anew.  Look what he did:

 He did this for me.  So as I come to Day 2 of noticing what I love, it has to be this.  A man who would make this for Me...not for the garden (he doesn't eat much of what I grow), but for me.  He makes me laugh and he builds me stone walls.  What more could a girl want in a boy?

The Story of Red: A Drama in Six Acts

Act 1:  I couldn't be more out of sorts. I have been begging myself to stitch but I cannot find a story.  Or even a path. Last night, I gave in and cut a pile of red and white squares. I plopped down in my chair with off-white thread, a needle, a zip lock bag of red scraps...and a lot of despair.  

Act 2: Fine, I'll just do it.  One square to the next. No expectations, no real love either.  At least my fingers are moving . I force myself not to look at the way the squares, which were all cut equally, are each taking on their own sizes. As the strip grows, I start to feel the coiled up place behind my eyes give way a bit. 

Act 3:  Yikes, three interlopers!  Hey...

Act 4: And then this happened. As fast as you scrolled down to see it. Really.

Act 5: And this.  Just as fast.

The pieces of old sari silk that I learned how to cord from a Jude video. I was having a great time making that cord a few days ago but stopped because I couldn't figure out what to do with it. Lucky for me,it figured it out all by itself.

Act 6: Now the brain coil has melted, the fingers are dancing, and I am grinning with delight.  Hey look, she has a friend!

Seed packets...the start of growth

Moral: its the doing, its the doing, its the doing. Sometimes, it will take you somewhere. Which may take you somewhere else.  In any case, you get to the best places when you're not looking. (Some of the red even jumped on to my Michigan cloth, putting an end to a longtime dry spell there, too.)   

I've got some happy seed packets that maybe will grow something else. Or not.  You know, people who create say that kind of stuff a lot but tonight, for the very first time, I really learned what it means. 

The End. 

[applause]

When I Open My Eyes, I See: Day 1

I got the idea from Grace over at Windthread...to notice and document the things I love in my world.  I hope the noticing nudges me back into some desperately needed balance and the documenting, well, that is where the learning comes in. 

So here goes seven days of opening my eyes around here.

In fact, here is the first thing I see when I open my eyes in the morning...lately, around 6 am.

  
It is a crusty old beauty, my window, put it during the 1750s.  I lift the blind (a tear-droppy little number that makes me SO happy)  and see the day. When I am feeling highly evolved, I remember to truly See the Day Ahead and feel exquisite amounts of gratitude. For the morning, for the choices that led me to this farmhouse in Pennsylvania instead of a condo in suburban Detroit.  I think about the people who have looked out of this window over the past 250 years.  I bask in the bright blue of the surrounding plaster...I think about things other than myself. 

That, by the way, would be a rare day. 

 I am more likely to rekindle my anger at my truly evil neighbor, whose existence necessitated all the fencing that wasn't there before. Or  start wondering why paint won't stick to the window sash and look at all the chips in the plaster and while we're on the subject, I better remember to call the electrician, get Dad's Medicare papers in order, get fuel delivery on automatic, and...you know The List.

The learning hits me right now.  When looking through a window, you have a choice of what to see.