every single night it's the same. The only things that differ are the time of day that night falls and the number of coverings to accommodate temperature. The two baskets of cloth. The pile of books….half moved at a time. They're heavy. They go to the other side of the Everything Table, across from where my place is.
the three big pillows go on top of the baskets. It's precarious. Looking at this pic, a lot of things look precarious, a little askew, but it's how it is at the end of the day, no matter my good intentions.
the coverings that have been folded up and set as a large pillowish thing during the day are unrolled and the bed is made. In the last days, the old faded pinkish wool blanket has been added.
I think about this a lot, as i do it. A way to keep some kind of order. In the morning, the coverings get folded up and stacked again, the pillows arranged, the book pile moved back, then the two baskets, the smaller sitting atop the larger. Things that are askew are straightened. The bench seat across from me is empty. In the case someone(s) will sit there. How it is at old nana's.
Jenny came to finish the new feed Thing for Sunny Ray and Jack. I went off to the ritual of the recently planted B garden. That ritual is new. And newer still with the Fig being planted. I have taken up saying things aloud, in a very quiet voice, but somehow speaking aloud means something. On the way there, walking over, i speak this way to the forest of Trees, stopping now and then to touch them with my eyes. Soon it will become How it Is, like this bedtime ritual. Other things might be added.
repetition. Some out of necessity, some for something Else entirely.
windthread 
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