Change in direction

Sometimes it’s the little signs and las poquitas criaturas that remind us we’re on the right track.

I’ve had a couple of sleepless nights this week.  I haven’t been up worrying about stuff, it’s been more of a feeling of expectancy.   Like I’m about to give birth.  Waiting.  I’m in that strange and restless time in between creative endeavours.  I have the ideas, the inspiration.  Those have been steadily growing and developing for the past 6 or 7 months and couple of years.

I woke at 1am on Saturday morning and laid there in bed next to Steve, with my mind and eyes wide open.  I got up at 3am and organised the freezer.  You know how it is.  Now all of the wild boar sausages, beef casserole meat and chicken thighs are in one section.  The homemade chicken and fish stock is gathered together (I threw out the bread crusts and still need to investigate the 50/50 mix of icing sugar and ground almonds – could that be a marzipan mix?).  A bag of ice cubes, an ice pack from my osteopath and a bottle of Absolut in the top compartment.  A pint of real vanilla ice cream is floating about.  Sorted!

Then I tidied my studio.

I decided a couple of weeks ago that I am not going to renew my membership to the British Quilter’s Guild, nor am I going to enter a quilt into the Festival of Quilts in Birmingham this year.  This is a biggish move for me because I discovered and claimed my self as an artist through quilting.  I have enjoyed working to the structure of quilting, it gave me a container for my first pieces of art that I put into the world.  All guidance and structure can come with a cost however.  With quilting, it was the rules and definitions of what a quilt is (and is not).  I’ve found the constrictions frustrating over the past couple of years and have been organically moving towards other media and ways of creating.   So I put my BQG membership application and a couple of quilt show applications in the recycling pile.

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Then I erased my chalkboard and wrote this.

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A collection of curiosity cabinets;  poetry, haiku and a fairy tale about a shape-shifting Muscogee wolf girl;   drawings of jackdaw inhabited rooftops and illuminated fibre works are shimmering, mirage-like on the approaching horizon.

I finally got to sleep at 5am.  I woke and felt ready to get on with the day by 8am.  I set fire to Our toaster broke the other day, so I decided to pop out to the Co-op and get some croissants (which I could heat in the oven) and The Guardian.

On the way down the front walk, I noticed a snail heading over to our side of the wall which separates us from our neighbours.  We have a wild, little front courtyard with lots of lovely, delicious, succulent plants and flowers.  I am too tenderhearted to outright kill the little buggers, so I picked it up and turned it around so it’s cute horns were pointed towards the neighbours.  Then I went to the shop.  Couldn’t have been gone seven minutes.  By the time I got back, that snail had pulled a U-ey and was headed right back on over to ours.   So I thought, “What the hay?  Who am I to stand in the way of a determined snail?”  (Snail trail digitally enhanced!)

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I went inside and made breakfast in bed for my husband.  Our 3rd wedding anniversary is coming up this week, so we’re beginning our celebrations early!  It’s time to take it easy and keep on truckin’ in the right direction.


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