I am up at the crack of dawn. No kidding.
Part of it is just me, and all those years of working as a nurse and having to be at the prison 25 miles away, at 6:45 a. m.
And part of it is Jinksie. She has taken to sleeping with me most of the night, leaving at some point, and coming back to my bedroom door to cry and cry at 5:30 ish.
Once I'm awake, I'm up.
Miss Puss is on a 12 hour feeding and insulin schedule, so she is on me like glue as soon as I come downstairs. She gets mean if I am not as quick about it as she would like, hissing and batting at my ankles. Not a pleasant way to get up.
Once she has eaten, and gotten her shot, she takes a morning nap on the couch, at my feet, and you would think she was the sweetest thing ever.
In the studio:
My Circles baby wrap with silk weft is finished and off to NYC to its happy owner.
I enclosed a note, saying that I hope she loved the wrap as much as I loved weaving it, and I meant that.
It was joyful to me.
The two sides are so different. I wonder when I will tire of this Circle pattern that I have come up with.
I have been asked where I found the draft. The answer is that I didn't. I just played around at the loom with the treading sequence until I liked it.
Half assed, my father would say.
I am still into yellow, it seems. L and I just put this warp on the AVL for towels, and she threaded it through the heddles.
Weaving starts tomorrow.
Have to get ready for the Beekman Street fair, in Saratoga Springs, NY, on June 12th.
I just had my hip injected, again, so it is feeling better. Not sure how much good it will do, but hoping for the best.
It doesn't help that there is so much work to do outside. Trying to get the garden tilled and planted, and get things cleaned up out there.
I find that I am quite happy to stay home day after day. There is just so much to do here, I don't have the need lately to wander off.
I was weaving the other day, and realized that the last time I felt such peace in the place where I live, was when I lived in my little farm house up north, 12 years ago.
It's a good thing to feel comfort in your home. There's actually nothing that quite compares to it.
When I see refugees who have lost everything, and have no place to call home, it breaks my heart, and I am beyond grateful for my own place in this world, however humble.
I always think that I want to travel, but then I get on the road, and wish I were home.
I love it here, what can I say?