This morning I’m dreaming about white lace in an Irish cottage window, so utterly timeless and beautiful. Just a lace stole draped over a simple cord would do excellently. Isn’t a curtain like this so much the same as a bridal veil, crisp and bright with the virgin morning light peering through, promising a day as good as it gets. Maybe a Golden Fields or an Aria shawl would be the perfect window curtain. I must find some white linen fine yarn, and like an expecting mother knitting baby clothes, instead I could be knitting a lace curtain for my future (rebuilt) knitting loft. What a lovely thing to think about !
The near future so full of promise , yet I have been just quiet and contemplative through astonishingly cold days of January & February, while so much rain fell, and a couple times it snowed, one which I posted about. March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb, they say. Patiently I knit at the table, next to napping Emma, knowing very soon it will be the vernal equinox. Building progress is so much slower in winter, and in the wild. Presently the house is a maze of wires and pipe and venting….
The house weathered the winter without a roof,
covered only in the first sheer layer , and then plastic through the worst storms of the year.
Oh, but the windows, they will surely be installed soon.
I know that in a blink it will be finished. I am hoping that by the Autumnal Equinox of this year I will be living in the house once again, picking up where things were left off, which I think about constantly now. I ponder about where life was just before the wildfire; what I was working on, what was making me excited, what had I just accomplished, what designs was I thinking of, and patterns was I writing and ready to test knit, how far was I walking in the days, what was influencing me, and what great new recipes was I inventing . . . etc. I so very much enjoy contemplating this blissful time which is destined to come back to me. But six months? Maybe longer … or sooner? We can’t know for sure, and so “maybe” is such a fickle word. I know in my head this is not far off, but in my body and heart I am so exhaustively constrained existing in a tiny space, and once again having rooms wherein to move about will be a massive improvement to life, and will send me into a euphoric state! I am so very grateful for being able to cocoon in our tiny house up in the charcoal forest for this epic waiting period, although I am so very ready to come out of hibernation.
Hearing the excavator scraping away against a very rocky volcanic earth for a new foundation at 7 o’clock this morning was absolute music to my ears, and watching the gradual additional equipment arrive up one by one on our dusty road is just making me blast off into an orbit of happiness. I welcome the noise of production finally, over the deafening silence of waiting . Starting rebuild construction, twelve days short of a year since the wildfire, and no more waiting! I have in fact, made a celebratory apple crumble to bring up to the workers this afternoon, when things settle in a bit. Here’s my totally improvised recipe …