Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. Iâll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesnât make any sense.
– Rumi
What knitting?
I’d almost forgotten, that it’s a thing that I do. In all the weaving frenzy, wips have been sitting hidden and alone in various baskets, no longer interesting. Until I realised, that if we do get summer (which is not a given in years when I have new shorts and skirts) I can’t bring my looms outside. And it’s such a shame to sit inside when you have a garden, isn’t it?
New hobby
I needed one like birds need boots, you say?
Well, it’s something I’ve thought about for years, long before my health crashed, long before weaving. 40 years if you count my playtime in the woods, but seriously contemplating it for quite some time.
I think I’ve even mentioned NOT doing it in this blog, yes, here.
AND I’m fed up with the regular exercises from the PT, AND I feel like I should get it off my bucket list now, not when I’m 65 years downhill with unknown issues. Since I’ve already been made plenty aware that such exists.
A housewifely day
This being another dark, rainy sort of day, nourishing the approaching summer and my salad boxes, I’m inside pretending to be useful, rather than lounging with a book in the hammock. Wait, it’s been so cold we didn’t even put that out yet!
Making jam and buttermilk bread.
DIY wool picker
While chugging away at my suffolk/dorset roving, I was thinking of the many plant dyed kilos of ditto upstairs, which has to be fluffed and handpicked to loosen most of the tiny plant particles embedded, before it can be carded into batts/rolags. And decided I needed help with that. If you don’t make that effort, the VM just stays in there or on the drumcarder, forever polluting the next fibers and the next.
