dreaming in color

I was just cooking a colorful dinner, which involves coconut milk and pretending that I'm somewhere tropical, and was thinking back on my day and where I found color. I spent the first half of the day at Alewives Fabrics, drinking in color and learning to make a braided rag rug on a frame. My mind's eye is full of the reds...oranges...yellows...greens of fabric looking delicious on the shelves. So satisfying! Then I checked out the color in the produce section at the grocery store...then the colored pencils at the art supply store...all on my shopping list today.
Late in the day I went for a wintery walk with my sweetheart and an old, old dog who is visiting for a few days. We went off through the woods into the land of black and white. All the trees were loaded with fresh snow, bent down with the weight and beauty of so much white. The sky was white...the trees were black...the dog was black...and the light was nearly done for this day. As we headed home, the old dog pulling hard on the leash (which was not hooked to him - he was holding it in his teeth), the sweetheart lagging behind (after yesterday's collision with a tree while downhill skiing...) the sky began to take on the very palest of pastel colors. Faintest pink along the horizon, moving upward to the palest blue, as we walked on home through squeaking and scritching fresh snow, whiter than white. All's well in this small, beautiful neighborhood.

cozy at home

beginning

Well, where there's a blog there ought to be a post...yes? Today feels like a day for beginnings...the first time I've stepped in mud in how long? And sat on the back step to knit with the sun warming my face. I saw three robins, and heard one. Saw the ice looking thin and wet on the pond, where it was frozen tight just day before yesterday. Yay!
After running myself ragged until the creative well was empty, all with wonderful obligations, I have a bit of time stretching out before me for puttering at home. Painting the bathroom blue perhaps? With new curtains? (All without spending a penny, I think). Taking some oh-so-patient flannel out of its bag, and sewing it into nightgowns before the others meet their end in the washing machine. Washed and dried, it is such a beautiful pile of fabric! Though there are signs of spring, it's still 10 degrees most mornings, and flannel is still the thing I want.
I'll be baking, of course, and walking long walks, and looking at dogs available for adoption...
OK, I hear that flannel calling my name...