This morning I woke up thinking about landscapes. How I would define landscape. The landscape I live in is one of growing things and seasons moving through, shaping and sculpting.
(Blossom on my Camelia sinensis, the camelia that is used for tea.)
Thursday night I had been reading Pilgrim at Tinker Creek:
"Landscape consists in the multiple, overlapping intricacies and forms that exist in a given space at a moment in time. Landscape is the texture of intricacy..." Annie Dillard
"Were the earth smooth, our brains would be smooth as well; we would wake, blink, walk two steps to get the whole picture, and lapse into a dreamless sleep. Because we are living people, and because we are on the receiving end of beauty, another element necessarily enters the question. The texture of space is a condition of time. Time is the warp and matter the weft of the woven texture of beauty in space, and death is the hurtling shuttle." Annie Dillard
This is a book I am lingering in.
I've been laying down straw in the chicken run each week to keep things from getting really muddy. Makes for happier chickens.
I have officially started heating the house with the gas fireplace. Briar and I are cold.
Tomorrow I have plans to sew another blanket. What I make is often a response to the landscape I live in... That is probably true for a lot of us.