we drove out to my parents place this morning. the light made the greens of may sing with bright fresh notes. walking through the fields. sun weaving between the branches and the young leaves. breeze moving the grass in whispers. i found myself sitting in the grass and just breathing. i didn't want to leave. simply trees and grass as far as i could see, and it was like i'd never seen it before. and yet this is what shaped me. it's as much a part of me as the blood and bone and tissue that makes me. this view from my bedroom window that i saw every day as a child. i left this view to explore and create and travel and learn. but it stays always behind my eyes, always ready for me to return to it.

my mind is fleeting and rapid lately. i have glimpses of little ideas and moments of brilliance that i plan to share here, but they disappear. but the visuals that flood me constantly are stable. solid. always there. the trees. when the branches are bare with black tendrils against gray or blue skies, the beauty of it fills me. i dread the silhouettes changing to soft leafiness. so these last few weeks of branches means i'm taking endless photos. and yet, when the neon green stubble starts appearing, i'll love that as hard as the bare branches. and when we have the heavy cool shiver of leaves shading our windows and guarding our yard, i'll despair at losing that as well. i love every phase.

beating rain and a singing sewing machine

a full day in the studio today. mostly dark and gray, heavy rain and wind wheezing around the house. i finished a quilt and made another quilt top. and then enjoyed an hour or two taking photos of items to list in my shop. and then suddenly the light shifted and from the back window there was this stunning tangle of branches and stone and sky and light.

i listed a boy baby quilt as well as a gorgeous girl baby quilt and i added several baby bloomers.

i will try to finish some embroidery to list tomorrow. but first i need to clean the kitchen and make myself a cup of chamomile tea.