…upon this high wold,
and on these dews that drench the furze,
and all the silvery gossamers
that twinkle into green and gold.


I am learning that poem a slow line at a time
as I sit at my dressing table for a few quiet minutes
at bed-time.

It is slow-going…as is my knitting.
This is my third try with the gentle art, and tho’
I am enjoying this more than the two previous
goes (brown yarn….nubby….beautiful birch
needles….a scarf to wrap around my neck!).
Still…I know that knitting won’t be my thing.
I truly know it this time and it is ok.
Crochet and embroidery will be next
in my explorations.

My little women are almost grown now.
They roam the yard and fields now and sleep
in the hen house with the older ladies. It
is sweet to watch and I am ready for them
not to need me so much.

We spend hours here and there walking through
Colonial Williamsburg, looking for inspiration for
little details of the building that is progressing. My
new garage studio is nearly finished and soon we
will begin on the little “wing” for my mom. Tho’ I
am also ready not be needed by the project for the
myriad decisions involved in creating new spaces,
it would seem that an addition takes longer to
grow up than chicks do.

But nothing troubles too deeply at the moment.

There truly is a stillness…about the air,
on the earth, in my spirit. I am actually full of
yearning and ponderings at the moment, trying
to figure out so many things…sometimes irritable
and impatient, but even then, in a quiet way.
I don’t really understand it…like the Tennyson
above. If I take the words and lines apart, it
doesn’t make much sense to me. What is furze?
And a wold? I haven’t seen any spider webs
glistening lately. But if I just keep saying the
words out loud, they exactly convey the
season, the month, my heart.