the 8 o clock bells sounded as edgar and i were slipping in the gate from our walk this morning. i have ground the coffee and made myself a fresh pot of brew. so much is waiting for me across the yard, along the little path with tree roots sticking through the dirt, in the back door of the studio. i want so badly to postpone the work and get into this day with my camera, but the studio is winning the intensity of the draw. so i plan tomorrow to find my way to the lake earlier before the gurgle in my belly starts that drives me to coffee up and start to sew.
Friday, August 12, 2011
the 8 o clock bells sounded as edgar and i were slipping in the gate from our walk this morning. i have ground the coffee and made myself a fresh pot of brew. so much is waiting for me across the yard, along the little path with tree roots sticking through the dirt, in the back door of the studio. i want so badly to postpone the work and get into this day with my camera, but the studio is winning the intensity of the draw. so i plan tomorrow to find my way to the lake earlier before the gurgle in my belly starts that drives me to coffee up and start to sew.
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