the first of January
fell on a Tuesday--
when I checked out my blog archives
I noticed that the whole month of January 2019--
indeed the entire year--
(for though I may sometimes scoff
at the impositions
of human-imposed calendars,
and work on official holidays,
weeks, months and years
do provide a useful framework,
or a four selvedge warp
within whose limits
a gal can experiment to her hearts content,
changing her mind,
from orange to pink
as she will),
(as I was saying),
is punctuated
by the making
of little tapestries,
have become tiny books,
have become tiny diaries,
I have drawn comics
of me weaving,
provides
not only materials for more tapestries,
for said tapestries
as well.
How meta is that?
I can stick to the point
with fewer parenthetical
and/or creative
asides
in 2020.
Or maybe not?
Except to start off this New Year's Eve,
I'll leave you with a photo of Heptys in waiting--
so beautiful, all lined up--
and delicious to test --
a highlight of the holiday--
for what could be more satisfying
than possibility--
intense haptic delight in the moment--
while making yarn
that will provide similar pleasure
in the future?