“Dear Suzy, walk four hundred yards due north from your house to the dirt path which has not got any name on it. Turn right and follow to the end. I will meet you in the meadow.”
Every once in awhile, it’s a good thing to just run away.
I wasn’t really planning on it.
But with things wrapping up with my studio in Chicago much faster than planned – instead of holing up in a crampy little flat somewhere cityside, I escaped…
Can you see my new abode?
It’s an old log cabin in the woods – out on the border between Indiana & Michigan: where the lilting of the trees in the wind sounds almost as soothing as the surf; where there’s really nothing to do but watch the acorns hit the ground.
Since things weren’t quite in place for the final jump to the PacifiNW having a jumping-off pad seemed just the ticket while I get my ducks in a row.
There’s even a little enclosed porch to use as a studio – now full of mannequins and sundry supplies.
There’s a little red-headed woodpecker working on a tree a little ways from me while I write this on the porch and a furry litte bee that checks in to buzz around my head for a few seconds when the wind carries him my way. A family of 4 deer went by a few minutes ago followed shortly thereafter by what could be the world’s largest cat.
A close-by farmer’s market is full of the season’s best – and there’s no choice but to make it healthy, make it tasty. Peaches galore; tomatoes that melt in your mouth, field flowers and breads. (Breakfast: a sandwich made from 7-grain bread toast, mayo and tomato).
Hi Mr. Bee. Zoom.
There’s even knitting getting done — my cotton/wool Vonica is finished to the hem and soo will have sleeves. Lot’s of lace being added to my black Cinnie — am making long sleeves on it and it’s marvelous.
Lot’s of new things percolating in my brain now that I’ve subtracted all the city nonsense, noise and bluster.
It’s amazing the filters we build just to be able to walk down urban streets and not get drowned by large sensory saturation.
I’ve packed mine up for awhile and put them in storage.
I’d rather listen to the wind and get ready for where it’s going to blow me next.