sitting on the couch with ezra.  a little restless.  wishing i was at the studio, deep in the work.  it's not late.  but i have no energy for anything else.  the kitchen needs to be cleaned up. laundry needs to be folded.  our house has simply found it's way into a winter rut.  and i don't really give any thought to it.  i only have energy to twist my head around ways to turn fabric into blankets.  soft and irresistible blankets. and finding new ways to use the pieces that end up on the floor, one sweep from the garbage.  it's all my mind will get enthusiastic about now. 

but i'm not at the studio.  the snow and the darkness has become a barrier for me.  although it's just a few steps across the yard, it seems difficult.  and i can't force myself across it. so i wait until morning and i spend a quiet winter evening with my family.  a little restless.  and a little tired.  a bit like a bear awakening to spring.  

this photo is our empty icy harbour yesterday.  ezra and i walked all along it's edges, and at some spots the snow was past my knees.  yet i can feel spring sifting it's way through the layers of cold. i can feel the air beginning to shift.  the light is changing.  and there is a little restlessness in my fingers.  i am busy again.  a constant roll of making quilt tops, filling the shop with new quilts. sorting through new ideas.  and preparing for a small show that is happening march 1st right here in our little u-shaped village.  i don't like to leave my little circle of house and studio.  so the fact that this little show called 'she creates' takes place in the harbour, three doors down from me, makes it almost too perfect.  so, i work away, building new quilts, folding them in fat towers of colour, ready to send out into this new spring and their new homes.  

i've always prefered to eat with my hands.  i don't really love utensils.  although i don't mind chopsticks.  they seem to be finger extensions more than a fork or a spoon.  it feels like utensils create a disconnect from the food for me.  it puts me at a remove from choosing each piece that i take a bite of. utensils turn into little shovels for me.  but when i pick a piece of food with my fingers and pop it in my mouth, it seems i'm able to savor it more.   i like to sip soup from the bowl.  and pick up carrots individually be they raw or cooked.  i don't use dressing on my salads anymore because i love eating handfuls of baby greens.  last night a huge bowl of baby greens was my meal.  i tossed bits of bagel in olive oil and salt, and then fried them in a little more olive oil.  that was my dinner.  it almost feels like i'm sitting down with a big bowl of popcorn or chips.  but it's so much better that it's a salad.  it's becoming more and more often that i choose meals that allow me to savor them with my fingers.  and i'm eating more and more meals just with my fingers regardless.  now i really see the food i'm eating, feel it, and enjoy it!!  and i don't have to worry about my mother's scolding anymore.  well, not too much, anyway.  

when i come downstairs these wintry mornings, it's a simple little routine.  ezra heads outside first thing.  i put water on the stove to boil for tea. and i turn on the fire in the library.  this little stove sits in the corner, a constant welcoming smile with stella sprawled in front of it most of the time.  i keep two little clay pots that i made in college on the top grate.  they are filled with water to give a little moisture to the air.  a couple times a day i drop lemongrass essential oil into the water.  it freshens the air.  and i think it cleans the air too.  a little something to chase away the germiness of our closed in winter house.  
so my mornings have been fragrant of late.  mint tea and lemongrass.  and there has been sun.  the days are stretching, finally.  by 6 am the night has cracked and gray is spilling into the black night sky.  and by 8 am sun is flooding into the kitchen.  so i can feel the race into spring gaining speed.   but for now, i'll be bundling up to walk ezra through the harbour soon.  and coming home to stand beside the fire, warming my legs.  

trudging across the yard tonight, the snow was past my knees. ezra was eager to romp through the drifts and grab mouthfuls of fresh cold snow like ice cream in his mouth as he ran.   he loped along the path that tom shoveled for him on the weekend, although that path is filled in with snow again.  it circles to the back of the yard and around the crabapple tree.  and ezra shows his appreciation by keeping to it religiously when running around the yard, and stepping off of it to relieve himself.  
we are lazy this winter, like we are weighed down with the heaps of snow we can't escape.  we spend our evenings by the fire, watching netflix, reading, tom playing guitar.  but we're happy.  we giggle alot.  and don't seem to have the black cloud that usually hangs low over february.  and before we know it, the lake will be groaning itself open again.  and the crocuses will be coloring the dregs of the snow.  but for now we sleep like bears and drink tea and hot chocolate around the fire. 

i am lost in a muffled fugue while i work.  my days are  stacked hours of brilliant and magnificent monotony.   they are never the sort of disastrous drudgery to me that they may seem to anyone else.  and my studio grows more and more chaotic as i work.  it begins to bulge through the walls and into the rooms meant for less messy work.  but in reality, there is no work that isn't messy.  if it is fabric that i'm working with, the entire little house is an explosion of fabric and thread, color and design.   and if i'm working with paper there is a flutter of scraps and ink and glue throughout.  it just is.  every month or so, i try to organize and fold and put the garbage out.  but mostly, if i'm in my studio, i am there to work.  i walk in the door and i'm crushed with the need to be into it at once.  dragged into my own swirl of chaos.  and energy. and almost frantic activity.  when i apologize to visitors for the mess, it is half hearted at best.  and when i come home at night i cuddle with tom and ezra on the couch, weary, but a little jazzed up too.  we eat by the fire and find little worlds in our ipads to entertain us.  tonight i sat with pinterest and saw dozens and dozens of studios.  tidy and organized.  clean spaces.  or rooms of materials tightly and properly contained.  the work seems far away in those rooms. it seems more about the romance of it all then the chaos of work. it made me think of my methods, my work that is almost always on the brink of disaster.  and how i have very little say in it.  how it takes me by the throat and i love it fully.  

it's been 3 weeks since i last wrote, telling you of my friend susi's new diagnosis with metastatic cancer that her doctor's told her was untreatable.  it was a couple of weeks of feeling desperate and scared.  and trying to keep the fear away so that the energy could be positive and strong.  let me first say what amazing people are here in the little village of blogs we've created.  most of you whom i've never met in person, but i hope to one day.  i felt the kindness of your souls even before this, but with your generous gifts to susi's indiegogo campaign, i quickly became certain of it.  thank you!!!
with your help susi was able to get to germany!!! she has been with her daughter and her grandchildren and is now seeking the help of alternative sources of medical care, which is covered under the german health care system.  although she was dealing with terrible pain, and was worried about the prospect of the long flight, she was  and is full of the most powerful positive belief that she may still be able to fight this.  
and so, she is home, in germany, surrounded with her family's love and prayers and support.  and i wanted to thank you and update you on what you helped make possible.  

 these photos were taken during our last visit.  she had come by the studio a couple days before she left.  her pain had begun to ease and we had a wonderful visit.