Sunny, but very cold here on our ridge meadow farm.
Christmas has been packed away, carefully, slowly, on the eve of Kings Day.
Shaking off darkness and unbelief, feeling undeniable, inexplicable grace of renewal and possibility, I've been taking a sort of inventory.
And gathering within reach the ingredients of the artful life I've lived too often in fits and starts.
Since turning over my old work space to Jerome for his office, I've carved out a corner at the top of the stairs on the second floor. There are sliding doors to the upstairs balcony to the south with a panorama I never tire of absorbing, and a single window to the west, overlooking the pond. There is no direct heat here, but on sunny days I'm quite cozy and the cats often come and nap in their beds near the sliding doors.
Down the hall is my "library" and at the end of the hall the tiniest bedroom, which is now our guest room but also my sewing space, which is upside down at the moment
I'm leaving tomorrow for a quilt retreat in Decorah, Iowa and have been gathering the projects I intend to work on while there. The retreat work space will be in the same hotel as our overnight accommodations and our breakfasts and dinners will also be served there. I am traveling and rooming with 3 ladies from my quilt guild, all marvelous quilters. The sponsor of the event has a beautiful shop just down the street. This is where I purchased my Bernina 750 QE in September and so help will be on sight should I need it.
All of a sudden I am giddy with anticipation.