1134

•June 27, 2018 • Leave a Comment

Knitting is magic. Knitting is an act of creation and a simple transformation each and every time. Each knitted gift holds hours of my life. I know it looks just like a hat, but really, it’s four hours at the hospital, six hours on the bus, two hours alone at four in the morning when I couldn’t sleep because I tend to worry. It is all those hours when I chose to spend time warming another person. It’s giving them my time—time that I could have spent on anything, or anyone. Knitting is love, looped and warm.

-Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, Yarn Harlot: The Secret Life of a Knitter

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Iris

•June 9, 2018 • Leave a Comment

Cholla buds

•June 6, 2018 • Leave a Comment

Daffodil

•June 4, 2018 • Leave a Comment

Claret cup

•June 2, 2018 • Leave a Comment

Red yucca

•May 31, 2018 • Leave a Comment

1092

•May 29, 2018 • Leave a Comment

It is one thing to die into a dead world and, metaphorically speaking, leave one’s bones to bleach on a desert lit only by a dying star. It is another thing to die into the actual world, which seethes with life, with agency other than our own, and, at the very least, with endless possibility. For those of us, which is probably most of us, who—with or without drugs or religion—have caught glimpses of this animate universe, death is not a terrifying leap into the abyss, but more like an embrace of ongoing life.

Barbara Ehrenreich, Natural Causes