Today the rain is coming down in soft sheets. Beading up on car windows, turning the red brick to brilliant orange. Everything becomes more luminous in the rain, its symmetry more apparent, as if preserved in glass or viewed through a kaleidoscope. It's the kind of rain that will soak your bones in a few minutes flat, if you stand outside too long without a raincoat.
And so, inside, I play with wool. I had nearly forgotten about the charm of Shetland wool, its complex colors and crisp hand. How the colors blur together. How sticky and light it is, and yet how bound to the earth it feels. Its outcome is a secret for now, but I hope to start sharing some glimpses with you soon.
In the meantime, it's time to have a second cup of coffee and clean up last night's dishes, then to play Where's Waldo with the cat next door, whose sodden mug is probably lurking somewhere around my basement windows. Poor, cranky kitty. Serves you right for singing cat opera at 2 am outside my bedroom.
Happy Wednesday, friends.