Tuesday, April 22, 2008
It occurred to me that when I weave a rug I am actually making a path, through the days it takes to weave it, through the ideas I keep and the ones I discard, and finally, a path on the floor, every time I or anyone else walks on it. A path shows where someone else has been, and is an invitation to try it out, to see where it goes.
I was raking grass and weeds, clearing the path up to the spring where the watercress is in season again, beautiful and delicious. I have a crazy appetite for it. In the aftermath of the flood last summer, there are all kinds of branch tangles and obstructions. There are shredded plastic bags, crushed beer cans, styrofoam cups, mud filled milk bottles and pill bottles trapped in the branches and litter. The stream is a warp, and I am untangling a haphazard weave of fence wires and debris.
If I was a little girl this would be play, to make paths through the weeds, fish stuff out of the creek, and sweep the ground under the swamp trees to make houses. When I accidentally stepped into water that filled up my shoe, I knew it was time to go home. Little leopard frogs leap from the creek bank and plop into the algae, and I know there will be schools of tadpoles in these pools, then peepers. Peppery watercress salad for supper tonight, and a feeling to make something good on my loom.