it's like summer never was. like barefoot was never an option. like the leaves were never a whisper above instead of a crunch underfoot. like i didn't step out of bed into flipflops and a sunny morning to take edgar blearily along the lake at 6am. now i wake up to the robotic murmur of the furnace blowing the house hot. it would be nice if hibernating was an option for me. i'd curl under a stack of quilts and sleep until april.
my jane eyre quilt will be finished today. and if i'm lucky, so will mr. rochester. i'll try to get them photographed as well, but that may not happen until tomorrow. i finally photographed charles bovary yesterday. and listed it on etsy. he's very masculine and solid. but with a soothing gentleness at the same time.
Photographs Made With Pens
22 hours ago