Renovations

What helps is asking myself: "What can I learn from this?"

life in its biggest renovation stage

when renovations are going on we improvise. drink out of whatever cup is available

allow mess and clutter and chaos

how to do things in short time bits

we thunk about how things could be used/done set up diffenrently

we think about what's functional

reconsidereing priorities

wanting less rather than more,

a necessary simplifying

she's awake again

jansons katastrophe quote

What is being a mother like?

Astrid holds on tight to my finger while i walk around with her in the snugli, reading to her.

this little person sleeping on my lap right now has changed my life. disoriented, living in moment

she's asleep on my lap and seems like such a självklarhet: an obvious thing to exist. and yet, 4 months ago, she wasn't here. she was rolling and kicking in my belly. and 9 months before that...?

but now she BELONGS with me. with us. so much so that it seems she has been with us always.

it's the beginning of her first spring. i want to write her a postcard every day. for later. for me or for her?

time is different now. it is longer and shorter. longer- the days are long and her patience for just having me walk around holding her looking out windows, or being read to. the length of thhe constant activiies of our days. of the future days...

shorter-little slots of time in which to think, dream, create, or accomplish practical tasks.

voice- is differnt. function of voice to reach her from a distance to calm her when i cant reach to put a hand on her. voice as stretching to reach, reaching.

Shake

Sunlight is falling and slanting against the wall and across the floors. The time has changed and it stays light much later into the evenings now. This creates a restlessness and a need for renewal. I want to shake things off like a dog shakes off water. Shake off all my old tries and old ways, all my heavy obstacles and traps I have set up for myself. I feel a need to find ways around those old things. To outsmart myself. I'm sure I've been asking myself the wrong questions. I've feared the wrong things.

There was a snowfall last night. We woke to a white world. I went out to get wood first thing in the morning. It's satisfying to make footprints in deep snow but at the same time a shame to mar the pristine expanse of it.

The day before I was out walking with Astrid in her stroller and I was shedding my toque and mitts in the warm afternoon sun. I was pushing the stroller through mud and picking branches to put in a vase at home and tie feathers to. (decorative Easter branches called påsk-ris in Sweden)
So very March for the seasons to flip back and forth like this.

Anyway, I want to start this spring as if it's the start of the new year. Clean off surfaces, pare everything down to the essential. I crave a bare simplicity. An airiness in which I can breathe and let new ideas float by.

Picture a pine table, free of any objects but a bowl of rising bread dough. Picture a windowsill with a small jar of flowers on it. Picture the line where the water meets the sky. But don't call it the horizon. Name it something new.