Full March Moon tonight.
To Colonial Americans: The Fish Moon; to the Cherokee and some Celts: The Windy Moon, or Moon of Wind;
to this Muscogee (Creek) Indian woman:
The Moon of the Winding Fish,
who swims sometimes with the current,
sometimes against the flow,
lazily spins in eddies,
dives deep into limpid pools,
Tonight, after making my bed, The Forest of Dreams, with 500 thread count, sateen weave, Supima cotton sheets and placing the River of Dreams quilt over it, my bed feels complete. By the way, I just looked this up and apparently, Supima cotton is ‘Superior Pima’.
“Supima cotton will have superior strength to a product made of
upland cottonor upland/Pima blended cottons,
which will improve the durability and
increase the lifespan of the textile and apparel products.
Because of the fineness of Supima cotton,
more fibers can be spun into a yarn of a given count,
which will enhance the feel and softness,
drapeability and brilliance of color of a fabric.”
That explains the visual and tactile sheen they give off. And they’re a beautiful soft shade of mushroom brown, or mouse fur, or certain very smooth stones or summer sun-dried river mud. And it’s from the American Southwest, just like me!
This morning, I washed the grime and bird poo off of the headboard and fastened the quilt back into place on it. I pushed the bed into it’s place, in the corner of our salon near the windows which face south and from where we can chart nearly the full course of the sun and the moon’s journeys across the sky, from rise to set.
Anyhow, I just went into the salon to check and see how my bed is doing while the yarg was melting on my baked potato. The rising moon is shining through the window onto the two fish swimming down the River of Dreams. Yes, there are two fish. Some of you know that a pair of fish wind their way into many of my art quilts.
It’s tricky to photograph by moonlight, but I captured the way the light falls through the window panes onto the diamond shapes of the forest floor and across the sinuous river.
I’ve always loved to camp near a river. Steve’s away tonight. Perhaps I’ll sleep in the Forest of Dreams and flow with the River of Dreams.
On this Full March Moon of the Winding Fish