although we are just a few days into october, the nights are beginning to feel a little wintry. so we've been building lovely little fires in our living room fireplace. the cats sprawl in front and edgar does his best to get his favorite spot on the sofa. our neighborhood soaks up the sweet musky crabapple wood smoke that crawls out the chimney and i don't know if i prefer being inside with the warmth of the flames or out in the crisp smoky fall air. the fire makes even a mundane evening watching football or our favorite hbo shows feel a bit more special. i'm not ready for the full onslaught of winter but i think i can welcome the coziness of fall.

every day should have a moment that simply makes you glad to be alive. grand events and exciting happenings don't count. just a moment that makes you pause and breathe and smile. it's still early and i hope to have a few today. walking among the unused limestone buildings this morning by the lake, seeing the old paned windows trapped with dust and spiderwebs and the light and shadows spread onto the cracked plaster walls....that was my moment. i wonder why i don't go there everyday. and then edgar stopping his sniffing and walking back to me to press against me and get a little neck rub before he went back to exploring. that was another one. and now i'll head to the studio and make journals and quilts with no expectations and nothing to lose because my day is already great.

the other night our friend and neighbor launched her book the body at the tower. it was a lovely evening at our local, independant bookstore. i am often loathe to leave my little portsmouth village compound in the evening after a long day of running errands and creative decisions in the studio. i prefer to relax with tom in our own little world. but i actually changed out of my thread covered clothes (i'm sure there were still a few threads here and there, but i did my best), slapped on some lipstick and headed off. ying had asked me to bring my camera....which was genius on her part, because if i have permission to be the annoying photographer, i'm thrilled to be at an event. and i enjoyed myself completely. i saw old friends, the regular portsmouth village crew, met new people and even found a fabulous book i'd forgotten i wanted. there were wonderful photos and moments and a warm sense of community. i'm so glad i went.....thanks ying.

when i see a sewing machine i get a little lurch in my belly. my own sewing machine doesn't illicit the response as much.... it's when i see one from a distance sitting, waiting, ready to be useful. yesterday i saw a sewing machine set up on a little table, sitting in a living room window. it was just a glance as i drove past the house. and there was a rush of emotion. this happens if i see a dusty and unused sewing machine at a yard sale or the goodwill too. or a picture of a sewing machine in a magazine. it's hard to see them sitting silent and static. i want them all to be my friend. and i want to go home and start making things. memories of my grandmothers invade me and i hear the hummy clacky sounds and see them bent over the little lighted machine. and i know that my relationship to sewing is one of the many gifts from the women i am lucky to have as my ancestors.

my love affair with journal writing is something i can't explain. i don't remember my life before i had a journal. it comes from before i could write, before i could read. when i was 4 my mother would sit me down for a few minutes everyday and ask me to tell her what i was feeling about my day. and she would write it word for word in a little red diary. my first journal. from then on i always had a pen and paper and piles of books around me. my parents still chuckle, 40 years later when they see me with my ever present backpack or shoulder bag loaded with books and pens and paper and my journal and my camera. i am never without a pen and paper in some format. boxes of journals chronicle my life.

i've been making journals this weekend. beautiful old papers and photographs and letters and labels all converging on a moleskin book. they are really quite lovely. and i love making them.

edgar and i had the most lovely walk through the harbor tonight, just as it was growing dark. the lights sparkling off the water. the boats clanging in the dusk. and rising above it all, the sounds of a straggling marching band leaving the neighborhood bar where they'd been all afternoon since the end of the university football game. the stadium is not far and saturday afternoons in fall are often energetic and loud. it's wonderful. but tonight was something a little magical as the marching band left the bar, drunkenly playing drums and trumpets and singing 'oh when the saints' as they wove up the hill in a pack back to campus.

i should be in the shower. but instead, i'm sitting on the porch swing while my husband sits beside me and plays the guitar. he's singing and i'm butchering every song i attempt. it's a magnificent friday afternoon. and hot like summer although it's late in september. we've been painting at the latest house we're working on. i started a little work in the paper room at the studio today, but cut it short to take tom some lunch and help him paint. we are hot and sweaty and a bit covered in paint. but these moments on our back porch with a guitar and cats and edgar seem pretty idyllic. floyd is chasing the squirrels who are trying to bury crabapples. and tom keeps picking all my favorite ryan adams songs to play.
i hope the weekend is a wonderful one. for everyone.