Life speculation

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Finished quilt top.

A quilt came together yesterday afternoon wholly out of the blue. I've been feasting my eyes on a placemat made of scraps from sixteen-patch blocks that have been languishing in a stack upon some surface area in my office. Those nine blocks merely required pinning, stitching, then pressing, but it hadn't been pressing within my soul to do all of that with them, lol. After lunch and laundry folded, I took stock of that stack, brought up the photograph below, snapped back in May when I decided their placement. Confirming which block went where, I pinned, stitched, then pressed. Suddenly I had a forty-eight inch square quilt, ta da!

But I wasn't finished; forty-eight inches all the way around was a little small. Scrounging through scraps recently used, I came up with twenty-eight squares, made a top, then a bottom row, then spent the rest of the afternoon completing the quilt, which included ironing the entire top, what with rows pressed up, down, and side-by-side.

By suppertime a quilt was photographed on the laundry line. Meanwhile there was laundry to put away, guest beds to make, our bed too. Dinner to prep, a whirlwind of activities, but somehow a little quilt emerged. I would love to find it a new home, but I'm nervous about the narrow-for-linen seam allowances, and for now it will reside here, unless a very brave soul wishes to liberate it, lol.

I wrote another chapter today, a little bit of fits and starts, kinda aggravating in that before the writing break I was so in a groove. Things could be worse; currently my husband is suffering greatly from either a whopper head cold or massive allergies. I'm hoping it's the latter, as I don't want to get sick. After lunch I pulled out all my flannel and minky scraps and arranged a backing, then proceeded to sew that together. Then I dug through large batting scraps, found three strips of the correct lengths and widths, but the sun was out and I felt slightly guilty for hunkering inside when a gorgeous day beckoned, So now I'm typing this on the back patio, a mild breeze blowing, birds chirping, marigolds blooming. These were started from seed back in mid June when our grandson visited and somehow the deer haven't found them (yet).

For all my getting stuff accomplished, be it crafty or wordy or fold a lot of laundry-like, I'm not feeling happy. My mood isn't sad or depressed, more of a huge dose of MEH shoved down my throat. I don't know why; the weather has been marvelous, our recent guests were fabulous, and hey the washer works! Other than my husband's malady no one in my family is terribly sick. Maybe I'm just in a mid-fifties funk, which certainly occurs once in a while. I'm behind in my sleep, that I know, and if I was smart (and really brave) I'd give up (or at least severely curtail) my caffeine intake, AHEM.

Or maybe it's just that every once in a while life feels hard. Fruitless. Rootless. Those big existence queries seem to weight many tons; why am I here, what's the purpose, etc, etc, etc. Normally I don't ponder too hard those inquiries; I live a life of grace and try not to get all worked up about what is beyond my control. But I'm also very human. I make mistakes. And every once in a while those big questions trip me up. Why am I here, why do I write, or sew, or do laundry? Okay, the last one is easy. But the other two.... 

I like keeping busy, I dislike being idle. Maybe I need to slow down and find joy in just BEING. Writing is great and quilts are cozy, but there is more to life than those activities. LOL. Recently I've incorporated stretches for my back and hips into my daily routine, and while i felt better physically, it was DAMN DIFFICULT to make the time for those necessary elements because I felt I wasn't accomplishing anything tangible. Making peace with exercises took weeks, perhaps another round of personal peace talks needs to occur. A meditative accord, if you will. Maybe over a lovely cup of decaf even; I'll let you know how it goes.

(Postscript... After writing this I got off my keister and picked about eight cups of wild blackberries. It was a slow process, as I didn't wish to rip up my hands, but very pleasurable and mind-clearing. Said berries are washed and in the freezer. And boy it's healing to be outside in the sunshine.)


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