picnic, lightning

It’s been a rough several months, hasn’t it?

There’s a poem called Picnic, Lightning that I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. It’s a classic Billy Collins poem (i.e., dark yet oddly charming) that was inspired by a line by Nabokov, in which the narrator explains his mother’s death with just two words: picnic, lightning.

I reckon that my last eight months are best summarized in similar fashion: pandemic, migraine. Both experiences are new to me, both have sucked up my time and creative energies, and both have, unfortunately, become my new normal.

The good news is that I’m adapting and figuring out new ways forward. I’m getting back in the dye pots, catching up on my dye queue, and have scheduled the next online update: Saturday 14 November at 3pm Eastern Standard Time. I’ll post more details about what will be included in that update as the time draws near; in the meantime, I hope that you’re finding some creative joy, whether through yarn and colour or in some other way.

Working in the dyepots! (Yes, I wear an indoor hat; I get cold easily.)