Whatever it wants

There are tiny sprouts of mint leaves in the garden, and I saw an osprey on its nest. Spring must be here somewhere. But today's sky at Long Beach was heavy and dull, as if it is still winter. Even the wind gave up — on my way past the first time, the water was choppy, with little whitecaps hurrying across the surface. Fifteen minutes later, I stopped to see this: calm water, so calm that I could see the bottom yards and yards out.

Back home in the warm house, it's been a good day for quiet. Rosemary is sleeping, and I'm finishing some knitting. There's tea, and Emmylou Harris and Rodney Crowell are here to sing to me. It can snow if it wants, or rain, or whatever. This is the place to be!

Permission

I could feel it building, deep inside, and in my shoulders. It began to keep me from taking deep breaths. I know myself well, and I saw where I was going.

"I'm on the verge of being too hard on myself," I told a friend. The response: "Give yourself permission to dream. You're right where you're supposed to be."

That's the best advice I could ever ask for.

So today, among the housekeeping and knitting and coming and going, there will be dreaming. I have permission.

Perfectly lovely

It's only taken me a year to finish this Hitchhiker scarf. Simple as it is, it took so long because it kept being pushed aside for other, more "urgent" projects. It's on its way to my sister Sarah (the quilter), and I hope she'll put it aside for next winter, since it wasn't finished in time for this one.

What keeps me from finishing perfectly lovely projects? Distraction, or too many ideas, or deadlines? Sometimes.

It doesn't really matter. Making stitches with beautiful yarn matters. Wrapping my sister in a scarf matters. Discovering the next thing I want to knit matters.

What keeps you from finishing your perfectly lovely projects? What a silly question.

Hitchhiker Scarf, madelinetosh tosh merino light 

Balancing

I am very sure that this moment is about balance. I haven't lost it, not at all. I am in balance, like this day—the first day of Spring.

Because it is a beautiful day (cold and windy, but bright) I'll be able to photograph a project I've designed and plan to publish on Ravelry. And I'll be able to go to Long Beach and take a walk by the water. And then, I'll be able to come home and work on my resumé (and a couple of Great White Bale spreadsheets) in the afternoon sun. All this, because my life really is as it is meant to be.