The grey days, the false starts, the melt, the mud, the fresh restlessness of seeing bare ground. The warmth of constantly being above freezing and an end to bundling and unbunling whenever you go anywhere. Feeling small, new, little green things (who knows what they are) poking out of the bleek landscape. I’m ready for new projects, bubbling over with ideas and longing for straight from the garden vegetables, I’m ready for you spring. 💕
Same colors and tones, basic washed out hues of soft pink & milky cream. Today my thoughts are questions.. why did I do that, why didn’t I do that? Sometimes I get thinking too big and important and end up feeling very small and insignificant (I mean on the grand scale of it all, well, it’s incredibly true) but for right here and now, I’m trying my best to understand the whys.
Like why didn’t I change out my heavyweight needle when sewing this finicky broadcloth, why didn’t I cut the inside pockets so they would go all the way to the side seams like the outside pockets do, and why when I realized they wouldn’t and I didn’t have enough of my prized cotton canvas left to fix it, I decided to just pink them and leave them raw? Why was that what my perfectionist self did, why now do I love this bag so freaking much, f’d up inside pockets, puckers and all?
Why do I have to justify loving it to myself?
Or why do I tote this shawl everywhere but never work on it, I absolutely adore it, I really do, but it’s been on the needles since October 2018 and is a main rotation wip ..why don’t I knit more?
Why isn’t the little bit I knit enough?
It must be the heaviness of winter, thick blankets of snow muffling the everyday sounds, leaving excess quiet time for overly critical reflection. Why?