After stitching myself into a mental corner on a a couple of pieces yesterday, I thought a straight-forward tree might help to shake things loose. Using Deb's moody cloth for the sky should have been a hot pink flag of what was to come.
I have an idea for a quilt. Something simple that I can work on in the evenings, not requiring sharp eyes, because I don't have enough projects half-started.
Remembering the rivers and lakes that we grew up swimming in. Remembering Dad tossing me off the fishing boat into the lake to "teach" me how. Remembering frantic dog paddling and screaming at him to pull me out. He didn't. I swam. Bike riding was the same story, at the top of a small hill on a gravel road with a ditch to one side and blackberry bushes on the other. It was his way. Sink or swim, or crash into blackberries, as the case may be.
There was a very frustrated crow outside the bedroom window early this morning. It cawed itself hoarse and finally gave up. By then I was wide awake. Blue spots represented the croaky caws in this morning's painting.
And then this happened...
