The persistent, rhythmic noise intercepted my dreams poking me gently awake. It was an hour or two before dawn. I lay with my eyes closed, half asleep.
Part of the reason I like to sew is that I am very
interested in the construction of clothing, the fit and the look or, what is
often my case, the lack thereof. I've had some clothing malfunctions as of late, not the Janet Jackson type, but more
of the mis-buttoning kind.
I had one goal that Saturday morning and it wasn’t sleeping in. The house had suffered too long from the beautiful summer weather, I didn’t care how nice it was outside I was going to stay inside and get the house picked up. Except that it really was just so nice outside.
I wandered out to the garden and looked down and that was all it took. Now, why hadn’t I noticed that before? After the previous nights hard rain, the sun was shining brightly that morning and the angle of its light was revealing the most amazing elements in the garden, but this was too magical to ignore and I had never noticed it before. Quickly forgetting my house cleaning intentions I grabbed my camera.
I leaned over to pat his knee, neither of us spoke, I couldn’t even look at him as I drove, I knew I had to keep it together because I wondered if he could, I wondered if I could. Even then I was nudging him to the next level.
“Be brave, give all that you’ve got, be strong” my soul softly whispered to his.
That small project spawned a little diy goldfish pond project which then spawned a larger and more back-breaking diy patio and water-fall project. Looking back on that rock-moving and dirt-dumping that we did it seemed like and endless task but in the end those projects added greatly to our tiny house giving us an extra place to hang during nice weather.
Sometimes the “business “of life can get you stuck in the spin-cycle. You become so busy that you don’t notice what is going on right in front of you. On the treadmill of two jobs, one as a producer for a multi-media company and another sewing production for a dog clothing company, throw in three kids, two not-so-well dressed dogs and a husband who travels and it all makes for an interesting life.
Now, I am not criticizing, I actually think the line is pretty cool and well thought out. When I first saw it I thought “WOW”! But that feeling quickly deflated as I watched the well dressed men riding their bikes through the city, my eyes searching the video for a girl on bike.
“Well, there's got to be a women's video next.” I thought
Strangely the video ends without a mention or sign of the female gender anywhere on a bicycle.
The cold sealed the fish pond, first with ice, then with snow, making it impossible to check on the torpid goldfish below. I wondered if I should heat up some water in the kettle to melt a little hole in the ice to get them some oxygen before drifting off to bed but by morning, with a winter thaw seeping into New England overnight, nature had done the chore for me. A lazy swish of an orange tale in the pond muck below assured me the fish had survived their temporary entombment.
Late winter can be a mad, mad time in New England.
The calendar tells you spring is almost here, and with the anticipated arrival of daylight savings time lengthening the day, it awakens the memories of blissful warm temperatures, the cheerful return of crocus and tulips, peepers sing their tunes and birds are back at the windowsill. But there seems to be ample grey in late winter and spring in New England. I know it’s the reason everything is so green in the summer here but we sure do pay for it.