30 November 2012

In the details

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Outside my window... the sky is so grey and empty, the clouds a muffling sheet over everything.  The world is still.  The yellowing willow hangs unmoved by and chill ripple of a breeze.  Bare stalks stand in the flower beds, with the fierce surprising gold of Winter Jasmine in the distance.

I am thinking...  about plans for gift sets in my shop, and the beautiful words of ancient prayers.  About what time the girls will wake and pour downstairs this morning, and about the awesome responsibility in becoming worthy of their unconscious imitation.  Incongruous as it may at first appear, it all lives in my head quite comfortably, and coexists through common threads of love, grace, and mindfulness.  :)

I am thankful...  for the small joys of new sparkly citrus soap, the quiet before the tumult of the day, and the perfection of the tiny and insignificant around my home.

In the kitchen...  grains are soaking for stew, and my morning mint tea is going slowly cold as I sit unwilling to disturb the contented baby who is slowly causing my arm to numb.

I am wearing...  soft yoga trousers and a long grey dress.  Comfortable hippy clothes, with my favourite red cardigan.  A pendant made from beach slate.  Worn red flat comfy shoes.

I am creating...  ice-blue felt bowls and stitched heart ornaments, right now.  :)

I am reading...  The Fiery Cross from the Highlander series.

I am hoping...  the girls will be able to have their planned sleepover this week - life so often throws up unexpected obstacles, sick babies and family emergencies, drama rehearsals and exhaustion.

I am looking forward to...  Hanukah lights, Advent calenders, and birthday cakes.  A month filled with the twinkle of stars, the glow of candlelight, and precious shared traditions.

I am learning...  just how quickly and easily mathematical reasoning comes when it's learned without obligation or shame.

I am pondering...  the wheel of the year.  And how to get Talia to keep on either hat or booties.

One of my favourite things... the way the frost turns each blade of grass into a luminous pale fragile fern.

Daybook

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