windowsill

untitled by cordellia

ice, chicago 2008 by styleofafool

i can't stop thinking about the first photo.

spring winds. i brew a pot of nettle tea.

i spend the morning gathering pieces for my spring collection. moss and mushrooms and river stones.

in the afternoon i walk to the market. i take the path by the lake, still covered but crackling into parcels of ice. i can hear streams rushing below. soon, toes dipped in.

i come home with armfuls of fresh air and asparagus and spring greens for dinner. soon, a garden to call my own.

i find myself thinking about words already written, past pages. how i like the patterns of days, seasons. i don't mind that something i've written a few years ago still holds true for me now. i like the long view. i like that the small tumble of my day stays steadfast through. they connect, somehow: the long view comes from the small humble moments, not rushing them. i need a way to remember this. i need a new notebook.

almost

this morning i open the window, then lie in bed and watch esme wash her nose. it's raining, and we can hear the mourning doves.

i read a story from this collection. ("theo" - a quiet story about a giant who falls in love with a mountain)

stretch and let ben and esme out onto the back porch, where windows wait. a cup of water.

i wash my hands with this soap.

i wash my face with white clay.

i open the window there, too and esme jumps into it and together we watch the robin on the neighbour's roof.

i make breakfast: yogurt with sliced apple, then a bowl of oatmeal and two brown eggs. but what i really want is a piece of cake.

i find this photograph by cloudsfollower and i fall in love and think of the story from this morning.

there is still snow on the ground.

a pause again tomorrow...

*

how to create something beautiful

nich hance :: untitled

reclaimed white fox fur :: pillow

in my hair this morning :: nettle, white oak, marshmallow, birch leaf, water

wintersleep

i've enjoyed this hibernation, wanting to find a way to bring it out into the weather here. thank you for all of your well wishes a few months ago - they did help, so much. i now find myself starting fresh wherever i can - except in the small spots i want to build from. the word that has often been at the surface of my mind lately is choice. i feel changed somehow, and like i need to find a new way with words that can surround that.

today mav discovered sally scott's spring catalogue. i love these photos, they just make me happy. did you see that each photo has a video you can watch too? it's interesting to see the difference - how the girls seem a little bit more self-conscious in motion, that perfect luminous light more tenuous, more lived in; of course. but also, i love that we get to see them smile and feel shy, see their awareness of the camera. because there is always a camera.

o

i have a cold; it's new and my first this winter. that delicious heady fog is making me drowsy and i spent the afternoon in bed with esme tucked between my arms (she has been always by my side since i've been home), reading the 100 mile diet. i thought i might find it insufferable but it's really, really good. and i'm already dreaming of my garden, and scarlet nantes carrot seeds. and summer.

o

two small valentines to share - i can't stop smiling when i listen to these, from the long goodbye:

can i call you mine

pilgrim

(oh i am a bit smitten with michael cera. i love the kismet symmetry - these two songs followed "a well respected man" by the kinks in my itunes)

o

a clearing

i don't really know where to begin; writing about the last three weeks seems almost impossible, although i have now told this story many, many times. but somehow it is still too soon; it feels strange to try to gather it here, because i am not yet seeing it from the other side. i don't know how to parse it into paragraphs; the details still seem so important. there is snow on the ground now, and the blankets are out; i have been lighting little families of beeswax candles every night since i've been home.

so. three weeks ago i went to emergency after two days with the stomach flu. being diabetic means that after two days of not being able to keep food down, insulin doses and dehydration become serious stuff. i was treated for dka (diabetic ketoacidosis), and they kept me at the hospital for a few days and then let me go home. i spent the rest of the week resting and recovering from the flu. only i wasn't getting better. by last monday, i had started to get sick again and went back to emergency, only to find out that my appendix had probably ruptured the week before, when i first started getting sick. i guess once that happens, the body starts to wall the rupture off to protect itself, but it makes the appendix harder to remove. i had an emergency appendectomy last tuesday night and stayed in recovery at the hospital until monday. being diabetic also means that any wounds are slow to heal and prone to infection, and one set in at the incision site and is slowly getting better. a nurse has come to see me at home every day this week, and will continue to do so until it's no longer necessary.

little days, little hours, little movements. with each day my muscles curve more to my world and i can do what i couldn't before. at times i am restless. i think this is good. at times i am sleepy. those are good times for naps. but the constellations of my days are starting to take shape again and i can see pockets of light of shining through the snow. i am happy to be home.