Saturday, July 20, 2013
There are times when we just need to sit in quiet, to hear our own heartbeat. To hear nothing other than old floors creak from time to time. This morning is one of those quiet times for me. Time to push away all the squirrel cage thoughts and just do some hand work. Listening to my needle puncture the fabric as I embroider. Time to listen to that small still voice that so often guides us in the right direction. Looking around the room, I feel an overwhelming sense of comfort, the kind that makes you sigh deeply in satisfaction. Lavender drying behind the wood stove. A basket of toys by the front bedroom door. A wooden gnome home next to the couch with sleeping gnomes scattered about and wool felted owls perched on the top floor. Mail from yesterday scattered on the coffee table. Sunshine filtering in through the sheer curtains, and providing an almost Renoir sort of view of the outside. Its a perfect morning. Its a quiet morning, just what I needed today.
It is a silent sort of morning, sitting next to the wood stove in my rocker, watching the birds outside my windo...