While sipping my morning java and looking out the screen door, I suddenly realized I don’t have yarn.
I have sequins, and beads, and pearl stamens, which I have yet to find use for other than adorn the bottom of my trash bin; tissue paper (I don’t mean the toilet kind, silly!), special paper, origami paper, tracing paper, and sticker paper; pink glitter, silver glitter, gold glitter, and tattoo pens which glitter. But no yarn.
I’m not saying my life is miserable just because I don’t have yarn. Frankly, all those other things I mentioned (and believe me I have so much more hidden in drawers and unused vanity pouches here and there) make my hands pretty busy when the urge to do something creative consumes me, like last night when I was up till 11 making tissue paper blooms despite the fact I had planned to go to bed at 8. But it occurs to me now that it would be nice to have a stash of yarn in the house with which to make pom-poms whenever making pom-poms seems the best thing to do.
I have got to get me some yarn.
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Three hummingbirds visit my yard every day. How do I know they’re hummingbirds? Well, I don’t know if they really are hummingbirds, but their beaks are curved like hummingbirds’ so I figure, they must be. It doesn’t really matter. Birds come in many shapes, colors, and sizes; “mine” just happen to be yellow and black, and petite. What matters most is the joy that fills me up whenever I see them. They always bring tiny bursts of charm and cheer to my garden and me.
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How I wish every day were quiet Sunday mornings like this with a hint of rain and a promise of no worries; just dogs napping at my feet and visions of delicate paper flowers suspended from the ceiling, swaying ever so slightly in tune with my breath.
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