The Rest of March

I don't know of any other month that can so effortlessly contain all the weather types. Shirt-sleeves to Blizzard, this is March in the Cascade foothills.

The Rest of February

February was as always, a wet and cold respite. It's hard for me to put into words just how much I love the months of January and February. All is still and quiet and waiting. I adore the peacefulness of the calendar. It is an introvert's dream to not have so many social engagements, no bright sunshine drawing people out of their houses. There is the hope of Spring on the horizon, the watching for early signs of the end of Winter, but it is slow, still, peaceful. The rain hasn't yet become tiresome, the dreary days are comforted by a crackling fire in the woodstove.

And yet... since I started traveling for work, February is also the month of last-minute, of hurry-up-and-finish, of have-I-remembered-everything? Prepping for the Needlework Wholesale Market in Nashville is both fun and challenging. Every year is different. What will people love? What will they pass over in favor of another design? I don't worry about it too much, because the designs I create are purely from inspiration and intuition, with very little thought for trends or past successes. If I don't feel the design in my bones, if it doesn't get me excited in some way, then it gets trashed.

So my February was a strange juxtaposition of busy and still. And it was all good in the end.

In the Middle of March

Everything seems poised on the edge of bursting in the middle of March.

Buds swell on branch and vine.

The color saturation in grass blade and winter leaf
gets a boost each time the sun's rays peek through the almost certain canopy of clouds.

Water droplets cling to every available surface, magnifying the places where they rest.

There are baby chicks and muddy dogs and plenty of wet days for sitting inside and stitching.

But soon the days will warm and the sun will shine more often than not, and this girl will have a lot of yard work to catch up on. I wish the middle March days of promise would linger just a little bit longer.