Spring cress
Rock spring
Spring headIt 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.
3 comments:
When I was a little girl, this is the exact spring that I did play in, and filled my shoes more than once! It all looks so fresh without the snow, even that pile of garbage. You should call Jean to come and pick it up.
Ha! Jean's gone away, so now I'm the garbage picker-upper
Hello Susan! I am so enjoying reading here and seeing your beautiful work.
Your comment about weaving a path through time reminds me of some wonderful stories I read about quilters in Texas, stitching their lives into their work. And then years later, remembering the moments past from those stitches.
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