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2022-11-12 - 4:49 p.m.
indoors on a cold bright day
finally it looks and feels like fall. that brisk air, that unsparing light in the trees. i bring my houseplants in for the winter. not all of them survived the summer months. my pretty streptocarpella has been indoors for more than a week now. its new buds follow the sun, opening their faces toward the windowpane. meanwhile, i've been working on this quilt in the manner of prodding a dubiously-healed wound, searching for a twinge of pain, a seep of lymph or blood. i find nothing but cloth and batting. i started making it shortly before my second miscarriage and could not bear to touch it again for some time. the weather grows colder. the flowers face away. my son bursts into uncharacteristic tears at his kindergarten conference, comes home and spends three days sick on the couch with the new quilt pulled up to his ears. late autumn, now just barely a season at all.
* * *
reading: handouts from a pattern-making workshop. last time i tried to do this for a living, my designs were knocked off in sweatshops overseas and the patterns themselves were pirated. why on earth do i think this is a good idea, again?
listening to: windchimes, always a joy to me.
working on: patching the knees of my son's favorite jeans, giving them just a little more life.
in the garden: pumpkins are on the compost heap. that's the best i can do, right now.
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