it RAINED. RAINED.
Rain
It was forcast for 7 am. and at 6:58 it began. Rain. I could say that word a hundred times. Rain. With the first drops, Its scent rose and filled the air. Rain. I didn't close the door and it Rained IN and i put a towel on the floor. It hasn't rained i think since last March. April for sure, but i think March. All these months. I watched out the morning window as the branches of the trees darkened with Wet. I listened. Smelled. Felt. Rain.
Emrie loves rocks and stones. Every day, through the days she picks them up and gives them to me to hold and i do and she carries them too. The walking up and down the road takes a long time because of picking up rocks and stones. Last week we gave her a pouch for carrying. Still, she gives them to me to carry, or her Mother. The smallest plain ones are of great delight for her. The ones that look the same as any others are a delight for her. She needs you to exclaim over each…OH! Beauty FULL! you must say, OH! YES!, Great Stone! and she nods in satisfaction, her eyes kinda slanty. She licks them lately. I know licking stones. I have done that all my life…to see their patterns better. But that's not what she is doing. She is somehow knowing them. We discourage this, saying that sometimes there's Goat poop on the stones, or Talkie poop, things that can give you a stomach ache. She pays no attention. We hope she gets over it.
this morning her stones and rocks were washed clean by Rain. Rain.
Mid day i finished Irene's prayer. What can i say about that?
i went to the scrap basket thinking i was looking for one more. 4 rose up.
The Intensity of the stitching is all there is. No thought. No sense of anything outside the stitching. I love this so much. So different from all else. And when it was over, i looked. I would never have imagined. It simply is. I love this. A lot.
windthread 
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