on a cold winter's day

Today was a bright and cold kind of winter day, the kind that makes horses high strung and frisky; makes them difficult and fun to ride. What thrills I would have at the farm on a day like this! But not today, today I stayed home in town and just enjoyed feeling good for the fist time in days. Recovering from a sinus infection has been cramping my style but I got back to it today.

I got back on this feather tree that's been calling my name low these many days. I sat working on it through the afternoon; hours and hours of feathers feathers and more feathers! Twisting and twisting feathers onto the branches with wire, very repetitive and satisfying kind of work. I love repetition, it's so peaceful and calming, does good things for my brain.

Earlier in the day I stood at my kitchen window in the warm sun light for a long time, looking for excuses to linger there. I polished silver and washed dishes and planted some bulbs. I planted a pink & white Amarylis, and paper whites in silver sugar bowls. The paper whites always make me think of a friend's mother, I guess because I remember her having them in a window by her chair one winter. I don't know why that sticks out in my mind.
Do you ever have a people who turn up in your thoughts over and over for a time? Makes me wonder what they're up to, why are they on my wavelength? I've had old friends turning up in my dreams lately, girls on tall horses, friends in my old stomping grounds as I sleep. Maybe I just conjured them up to keep my fevered mind company as I slept...


...or maybe my dearest old friends are a part of me, always on my mind, always in my heart. People I spent many formative years with are permanently in my m ind, even the ones I haven't seen or talked to in ages, they make up part of who I am. I wonder if they ever think of me while they're doing dishes...while they're planting bulbs?


When this Amarylis grows tall and slender out of it's pink ceramic home, what will I be doing? Who's thoughts might I be in and not know it?
Will I have written about some of the things I have stored away in mind? I'd like to write about my Granny Jefcoat's funeral. I want to write about my Southern Country Woman Mentor Robbie Beck, who turns up in my mind more often than she would think.
Isn't it a thing for people to be so loved without them even knowing it? I have people enough in mind to write volumes.
I think this year I'll start.