This past week has been filled with family in from Wisconsin and Colorado. Last weekend was a big gathering of the clans, on the only rain-filled day in months, so we all crowded into the house, unable to spill outside to the patios. People who have not met made contact, and others who have not seen one another in years caught up. It has been a wonderful time, and what I really liked the most was how much everyone liked everyone else. We will be winding up all this family stuff this next weekend, and then it is unknown when we will all meet up again. I like the idea of renting a big house, in Hawaii or in northern Wisconsin, and bringing in family from all over the place – others like the idea, too, so we can all see each other again. We aren’t getting any younger . . . and the little ones are growing up way too fast.
This morning is very quiet, with only the birds being heard through the open window. Sunrise was brilliant sky and pink clouds. These are the texture of my mornings here in the studio, as I drink coffee and ponder what to do during the course of the day. As I am spring break, my days are not at all structured with the need to get out the door on time to make it to class, to spend the 5 minutes it takes for the ancient work computer to boot, put my lunch away, and listen to any phone messages which may have come in. It is this quiet that means so much to me as it is time to reflect on what is going on. I also daydream of retirement and the fact that my life will be more my own as it declines . . . .
There is value in little moments. I am not at all sure where I am at when it comes to painting or knitting or photography right now. I don’t know if I really care. Aimlessness has its own value because it allows for exploration without the need to accomplish. There are lesson plans to write, things to read, and so on, and while they will get done, I don’t want to do them now. Rather, I want to savor the morning and its little things and allow my mind to roam where it will.
Ink, Yarn & Beer 