The Luscious Luxury of Staying the Fuck Inside
While winter does its thing
Full disclosure: I worked on and off as a park ranger for years and often had to work outdoors in freezing temperatures, so please know that I write this with every ounce of knowing how it feels to be unable to do it.
This week I’m off work. I don’t have to go anywhere I don’t expressly want to, and I have plenty of beans and rice to make it through til the weather breaks.
I am delighted. There is this particular feeling I experience when the weather is a disaster (like a nonstop ice-storm all day long that breaks a six-foot shrub in your garden in half) and I don’t have to leave the house.
I don’t even know what the feeling is exactly; it’s not quite plain old safety, and it’s not quite the feeling of having a little vacation. It’s somewhere between relief, winning the lottery, and this other feeling I get when I have permission to craft shit all day.
That’s right. I have a special feeling for when I’m trapped in the house by winter weather and I get to sew, embroider, print, paint, or just organize my supplies so I can touch them and love them. It also feels good to read and drink hot tea on days like this, but sometimes I don’t have the patience for that; I want to be making.
Today I worked on a Christmas gift for my niece and started a quilt (only my second!) for a new baby in my life that’s arriving in February.
Ahhhhh…yeah. That’s good shit.
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