|my new Morning Pages Notebook a la Mel with sewn cover|
This morning I awoke to this:
Winter's last and feeble gasp ... it actually helps to abate the fever within. My symptoms: frenzy of new activity;
|back view; an impulsive Must Do This Minute project?|
resurrection of old projects from the vaults (embroidery, a sweater, a felted bag, paintings, journals) shuffled in with the new;
|ah, a girl rummaging in the paint tub!|
eyes wide open to the quiet and boisterous declarations of Spring shaking me to Wake Up! It is Time to Don Color and Celebrate!
I am learning from The Man II (Mr. Whyte) to cease trying to name what is yet unnameable ... to declare the destination prematurely would be to limit the scope of the journey, pigeonholing myself and any transformation that might occur in the act of striding through this forest of delights (oh, and shadows and strange noises and wonderful birdsong and sunshine through the branches.)
I am welcoming the excursions to shore ... the side trips (This begins on Friday and I don't think I can - or ought to! - resist this and goodness goddess, how can I not want to don gypsy grab and set forth with my adventure journal?)
I blame all this on the worms. The earth waking up, the worms working their magic underground, the green fingers of Spring wiggling their greetings and invitations to me. Spring fever? Oh my yes! And I am feeding it!
What has the Worm Moon awoken in you?