February 25, 2018

Sunday Afternoon

Here in the studio I sit, the cat who could barely tolerate me for all of her life, pawing at my legs to move the laptop and let her up in it's stead. More than likely what she really wants is for me to move so she can have my spot. I would be embarrassed to admit to you how often her endeavor is successful. But not today. It is a Sunday afternoon, the tail end of a weekend that felt productive. I think I am finally, slowly, maybe finding my pace. I would be very happy to have that be the case.

Last week was a week of finishing things: a book, a magazine, a pair of socks, a shawl, the filing for the last 2+ years. It feels so good to finish but for some reason I don't seem to be very good at it. I am very good at starting. At doing. My finishing seems to take more concentration and effort than I can sustain, most days, but always gives me the best feelings of accomplishment.

Spring truly is settling in here in the Village. Those walks with Clover have become much more pleasant although there have been a few days when the downpours make it a challenge. I will actually miss walking her in the snow, though not single digit temperatures. Behind our cottage there is a public green space with a path that leads through woods, alongside a small river. It is one of the most peaceful places I've ever been. I'll be walking along the part of the path that is wide open, surrounded by tall grasses and flowers (or what last summer was tall grasses and flowers) and as soon as I walk under that canopy of trees, I feel a shift in myself, and then as I keep walking I get my first view of the water... JOY! A peace that can only be found for me, in nature perhaps.


Zen, isn't it?

I'm looking forward to the week ahead. This weekend I got a head start which has me feeling ready to tackle some spring cleaning, sewing, casting on a new knitting project, getting moreyoga into my daily schedule and spending some quality time with a book.

February 21, 2018

A Study in Contrasts

Yesterday was a day that neared perfection, if you leave out the part where Clover tried to dig up my yard and flowerbeds. We were the beneficiaries of a beautiful, sunny, breezy 70 degree day. I spent most of the day outside swinging, knitting, playing, gardening and walking the pup. I wore flip flops and not so much as a sweater all day. Walking through the green space directly behind our house, puppy hopping around chasing leaves blowing in the wind, I lifted my face to the sun shining down through the bare trees, closed my eyes and soaked up the unexpected joy of feeling that warmth on my skin, the rain swollen river rushing by, the birds singing as loudly as they could. It was one of those perfect moments in time that you hope you can etch into your memory for always. I went home, opened the windows, stripped the damp bedding from the porch day bed, dressed it with a fresh quilt, threw open the curtains and read a few pages of a magazine. Glorious. Dinner was eaten on the front porch with my sweetie, visiting with neighbors and trying to make the day last as long as possible because I knew today would bring a day of rain and temperatures in the 30's.

Before I fell asleep, in a house that was slightly too warm to be comfortable but refusing to turn on air conditioning in February, I felt slightly antagonistic about the day to come. It seemed unfair to get that little tease of spring and then get plunged back to reality the next day. The truth is that without the contrasts we can't really appreciate either day and there is beauty to be found in both extremes.

This morning I woke up early to the sound of heavy rain. I curled up in bed and read and cuddled my kitty for a little while before getting up to start the day. I decided it was a good morning to make the carpool run in pajamas since there was no dog walking in my immediate future. Now I sit in the studio having just finished my tea and chocolate croissant and having just knitted a few rows on my large, cozy shawl that was too warm to knit on yesterday. I have Sam Cooke playing in the background, Emma's cat who is trying desperately to become my lap cat after almost 7 years of disdain for me, warming my legs, candles burning, fairy lights on as I alternate preparing for my next knitting project, putting fabrics together for a sewing project and reading. A slow, quiet day that can be savored and lived intentionally.

It is then that the truth occurs to me. I like this day every bit as much as I liked yesterday. Sometimes we need to lift our face up to the rain as much as the sun.