Oh where did the months go? It's been so long since I last wrote here, it's been a long winter; dark and white and so very cold. I spent it reading; tracing the fairy tales back along paths of bread crumbs, following silky red threads, attempting to find that cold house where they were born... and so my head is full of history and geography, narrative and folklore all layered along those paths, a strange map in my mind...
I loved the snow, I find myself missing it now, everything was so beautiful and still, like that moment before dawn lasting for days at a time. I loved the ice on the windows and the heat of the fire, the steam off my tea spiraling through the cold air, layers upon layers of blankets on the beds, like a fairy tale test... The cold and the snow make me long for blank notebooks, that sense of possibility. I've been filling them as usual with narratives and ideas, too many thoughts flitting around my head, I'm itching to make and write. I'll try to post more now, when I'm making; happy and inspired.
Today I love dustings of snow and pale blue skies, I love feather beds and low sunlight on beaten books, I love knitted scarfs and rolling conversations and as always I hate unfair actions, I've been eating oranges and pomegranates whilst reading my tea-leaves deep in the night, there's red thread in my pockets and a flurry of paper that follows me everywhere, my clothes smell like vanilla and I have cake burns on my hands... Today the woman I want to be isn't swayed by the words of others, she sleeps sound and her tea leaves change, she lives where the seasons aren't just a wash of grey and she manages to get through that stack of books waiting for her...
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