I wasn’t going to post for a while,
but this morning it is so beautifully cool and foggy, and I feel totally revived from it!
Knitting a new lace design.
Life is good.
Category: Thoughts of the day.
From within a garden gate…
I am hopeful and ready to cultivate something verdant and lush, a wonderful secret garden, a tonic for a feeling of well-being and happiness wherein the garden fence I can be a caretaker of living things and feel at home, a place out under the sky where the nameless meadowy wild flowers and grasses thrive along side vines of berries, succulent sedums, herbs, foxglove, sturdy fruit trees. All together keeping time of the seasons together under the showers, and the comforting shade skips around in a merry frolic with the suns rays. In wet months miners lettuce explodes in edible clusters, and somewhere near, maybe a lucky mushroom pops up…
“Weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them.” A. A. Milne
Foraging about in a garden, a secret garden, the kind only a few people visit (namely myself) … with a lovely and nice gate to keep the world out and the magic in. Garden gates utterly fascinate me right now. Here is our garden gate from five years ago . . .
The garden is like a favorite room in a house. In mornings of April through October there’s me holding a watering hose in one hand and cup of coffee in the other, with knitting bag slung across my shoulders. I am dreaming a thriving green oasis from within my Charcoal Forest, and garden with walls of pink jasmine (just planted, six plants!) to vine and cover the lower fence, and shield from vision the blackest of burn, and the apple trees trying to shake off the scorched leaves of last Autumn’s wildfire as their new leaves are determined to emerge soon, very soon, they must, because I just see them in my mind!
“Flowers are restful to look at. They have neither emotions nor conflicts.” Sigmund Freud
A place to go, to work hard and get dirt beneath my nails, a place where the soul meets life, and the worries of the world are forgotten. My thoughts these days are of knitting, and of a garden with knitting trail made new.
Thoughts from the day…
March 8, Thursday, 2018: I’m feeling like I want to have a journaling binge, set all things straight which linger semi-confused and unsolid in my conscience. The days go by at an alarming rate, I so want to plot a plan, yet knitting is all that I seem to be able to manage. I am injured. Only five months ago, October 8, would have found me in my home blissfully immersed in creative projects of wool blending and spinning, hunkering down through the Indian Summer as I waited passionately for the next rain. If I can allow myself the confusion and desolate mental state, perhaps just knitting the next thing is all I should expect of myself, and perhaps all that can possibly carry me through 2018. As I write those meaningful sentences of best intentions, watching the letters curl, the words mark their place in the lines, the lines on a page, a page in a day, and a day in a week, of a month. Each month which rolls on by I can recognize as a frame of time where big things can be accomplished, but where the hours of the days, the weeks seem so busy and caught up in the fray, the sway, of emotions. If I could better separate the days, into early morning, late morning, early afternoon, late afternoon, perhaps I could expand my chances to rise out of my sad confusion. Okay, today early morning – take Emma up the ridge road with umbrella, appreciate that I can do that at the very least.