speaking of strewn light

In the living room the conversation is called, "catching up". What to do with life. It's a little distracting to my ears. The same way my room is distracting to my eyes - strewn with bags full of different parts of my life, and pieces of material from the project of making Stella a pillow. Pink with velvet. I have lots of different lights in my room - more than one for each area. The littlest light is on my old black singer sewing machine, my mom's before me and my grandma's before her. As a little girl, I sewed doll clothes, and doll quilts, then my first dress - won second or third prize at the agricultural fair that year. And then I sold sewed scrunchies, and pillows and bags and scarves. Scrunchies were fun with all different colored fabric. Made sure the elastic wasn't twisted, like emily was doing with the waist of her crinoline for halloween. To poof out her plaid 50's housewife dress.

On the window sill: The angel card I picked the last day of massage school is Indriel - the lightworker. I like color and I guess color is made of light. I like light too. The room I've lived in since july has the right kind of light. The all-day kind of light. My room faces South-East and the sun comes through my windows all day until the evening. Then it shines only into our little hallway at the top of the stairs where Susannah has set up the neighborhood viewing station, complete with binoculars, a blue chair and a white board to record neighborly activities. And it shines into the kitchen through the leaves of the big, late-turning maple on Morning St. The light bounces off the disco ball hanging in the window and leaves squares of yellow strewn about the ceiling.