As I grow older I find myself loving the beauty of the little things in daily life. The shape of trees, of course. The architecture of grasses, the texture of pavement and asphalt. The smell of the air in the morning. The music of silence.
And fabric.
If I had another life to live I'd probably build or purchase a loom. The look and feel of fabric has been touching something deep inside me, much to my own bafflement and surprise. In my mountain home I most often wear denim and flannel this time of year. But for going to town I enjoy getting other things out. Along with once again loving my tweed jackets and a growing collection of vests, in recent months I've returned to wearing a neck-tie, just because I love the fabrics and colors of the small collection of them I've held on to through the years.
[In the current zeitgeist, particularly where I work in Boulder, Colorado, wearing a neck-tie is for sure setting me apart as something of a strange bird. But there you have it.]
Perhaps it's a similar urge pulling Claudia, I don't know. After a lifetime of forgetting the skills she learned as a young woman, she's taken up knitting again.
So on her birthday we made a trip to Shuttles, Spindles & Skeins. She was excited for the tools she would soon be acquiring to begin her first project in years. I was keen on the opportunity to bask in the beauty of the yarns.
So as Claudia looked for specific yarns to make a warm winter scarf, talked with the helpful knitters behind the counter and began connecting once again with long-ago memories and skills, I wandered the aisles.
Occasionally she'd pull me out of my reverie to ask my opinion--particularly for the scarf she's making for me. But mostly I floated off into a near-dreamlike state of bliss just letting the colors and textures caress my eyeballs and the back of my brain. I resisted the urge to fondle. Mostly.
Even the dog was beautiful.
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