Feeling poetic today. Came home for lunch and spent a little time weaving in the studio. It was so pleasant listening to the rain while I wove that I found it impossible to go back to work. So I called in sick (and it wasn’t too far off the mark, my sinuses are bugging me badly) and wove about two feet of marvelous bright colors. Took care of my email from home. Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to do that every day? But this slow time at work won’t last too much longer.
I’m constantly distracted by the leaves. So many shapes and colors. I’ll never get used to it, and hope that I’ll never take it for granted. There are good things to be said for pine trees, and I miss the smell of the broken needles when it gets icy. But around here there are so many varieties of oaks and maples. I’m fascinated. I often wonder if I should have been a botanist. Never had a head for science and math though.
I have a serious urge to set up some dyepots and wrap some bundles of cloth and leaves. My hands are doing so well after my break that I am afraid of messing them up. Honestly, I cannot wait to have this surgery. Even when I feel good I feel like I can’t stitch or lift heavy pots.
I caught up with Jude’s online class today too – overwhelming goodness.
Sandy talking about his painting, about how he didn’t paint over a strange beginning, one that people have teased him about, because it “speaks to him.” Happiness, because art is speaking to him.