Heavy Air

I have been kicking around some thoughts on the next studio project.  The ultimate goal is to continue on working up what fabrics I have in my stashes.

The only way to form a plan is to have the fabrics out onto the church tables.  Putting hues of greens together is a possibility.  I hadn’t done anything with purple . . . and just where did these purple fabrics come from!  The last possibility would be browns with a tinge of rose in some choices.

I must have walked around those church tables a dozen times if not more.  Taking some time out and sitting in my teak rocking chair, it gave me a chance to see if the groupings of fabric from a distance gave a harmonious pleasing effect to the eye.  As the noon hour approached, I took time to rustle up some fried egg sandwiches for us.  

I realized that there were three library books that needed to be returned by the 19th . . . tomorrow.  That gave me the opportunity to take in some fresh air.  Sure enough.  I came back home and checked.  The fabrics remained on the church tables right where I had left them.  I shut down all the lights in the studio and decided the decision would wait for a day . . . or more. 

We did get some photos from Megan as she is settling into her college dorm room this week.  Yup, I caught the plants in the photos that had traveled with her from her home to Virginia.  Megan has always had live plants in her bedroom.  Many she had saved from a time when she worked at The Mustard Seed Nursery during high school.  I do mean “saved.”  When some were too sad to look inviting to the customers, Megan would make sure they got into her car rather than being put in the dumpster.

Dennis has been keeping busy in the garages today.  I will catch up with him when it is suppertime.  Dennis has been very quiet today.  His youngest son was released yesterday after spending time in jail since July 11th for assault and battery towards his girlfriend.  It is sad and it can’t but weigh heavy on a father’s heart.  When children are 58 and still seek the bottom of the bottle, there are no words or deeds to fix anything.  If, right now, I could reach out and hug my two children and let them know how proud I am of them, I surely would.  I will settle for giving Dennis a huge hug when he comes in for supper.

Heavy air . . . heavy hearts.

I hope everyone has more in life to cherish than not.