Today 2:18-2:32

It is now that I start thinking of next year as the purple cabbages I hoped would grow bigger start to collect mold in this heavy rain. and always now is when I start questioning myself worried all summer about enough water and now worried about too much water, how it moves off the house and under the ground. moves ground with it too, bit by bit. the millennial slowness of it terrifies me sometimes overcome with a dread that this all will fall. I mean literally I imagine my house crumbling, I imagine the hill sliding down towards I 5 , the train tracks and the river just beyond.

last week I put dark watercolor paper blinders on, positioned them as they are on a horse in those great-terrible westerns I grew up on. focused like that I thought there was no way to do both to be able to nimbly jump back and forth at beck and call to each endeavor. I did not give myself the credit I feel I deserve today after taking yesterday to clear my brain and my desk with it.

I must go now and arrange produce for other people in a greenhouse I have not entered before. still feel that I embark boldly and then retreat back to comforts of combinations I want to have power: stiff hands, the garden, the roof, the water. this has been written through associations but I did not allow the circle to be drawn that large on the map. I have to recognize the role quilts have had in my life and that at the quilt show no one is selling anything. I think it is similar to poetry then that some quilts have taken my mom years, or the scraps have been there and only a decade and new house later do they present themselves to be included. this is how I feel with collected observations from my senses and those mornings I wake up arranging stanzas out loud.