another dreary morning. a day to build a few quilt tops. and then migrate upstairs to my beloved, underused paper room. it sits in the trees, above the lake that is whipping wildly. the bare horseshoe pits. and edgar's personal peripherique. he has worn a path around the edge of the side yard that sits beside the studio and our house. he rarely ventures into the middle of the yard, but prefers his little path. i always think of paris and her encircling highway.
the last couple of months, the allure for paint has been building. and my need to start piecing yellowed images together to form new edge-y little collage pictures is strong too. and i'm prepping photos. they are all conspiring and demanding attention.
but now a shift has happened since i started writing this. i'll build the quilts this afternoon. off i go on a little spur of the moment road trip this morning to clear my head. to my parents to hunt for wood. and then home to concentrate on all the goodness coming forth!
where stories go
2 hours ago