again...

again...the rain.  although this morning i realized that i am actually in love with the rain.  if such a thing is possible.

the combination of bleak grey and light.  there's hope in that.  and i think it's beautiful.  did you know that grey is my favorite color?

  i brewed a cup of hot tea and stood watching the rain out the window.  the sound on the roof steady.  calming.

i have created a new nook in a corner of my bedroom (yes, it is grey).  and this dark, rainy day made me feel the pull towards my journal.  lately i've only taken time to journal on rainy days.  not sure why.  

after that i looked for rainy words.  here are some that i like.  

“I went to bed and woke in the middle of the night thinking I heard someone cry, thinking I myself was weeping, and I felt my face and it was dry.

Then I looked at the window and thought: Why, yes, it's just the rain, the rain, always the rain, and turned over, sadder still, and fumbled about for my dripping sleep and tried to slip it back on.”

― Ray Bradbury, Green Shadows, White Whale: A Novel of Ray Bradbury's Adventures Making Moby Dick with John Huston in Ireland

and then, just like that, out comes the sun.  it sort of broke the spell i was under.  and now i think i will go outside for a little while.  and give the sun a little attention...  

it rained...

 it rained all weekend in my little part of the world.  a drizzly, dreary, dark cloud kind of rain.  

i didn't feel much like working.  and so i didn't.

instead, i took out this journal.  the one with the beautiful handmade paper.  the one i bought for myself with birthday money several months ago.  the one i hadn't even made the tiniest scribble in yet.

and i got out my little glue stick.  

and a needle and some thread. 

and all of my favorite scraps that i have been saving...

...for a rainy day.

and i ripped and stitched and pasted for two whole days.

because after all,

that is what rainy days are for.

the red bird book...

the red bird book...filled with...

lace and beautiful things...

little birdies...

feathers...

poems...

wings...

and things to inspire you to take flight... 

and a little bit of sparkle for your journey...

and i wrote...

i wrote this morning.

 i wrote until all that was left was little nubs of dusty chalk that my fingertips could barely hang on to and my nails made that wretched, awful noise on the chalkboard.  and that made me cringe each time.

i wrote until i had the entire door filled up.

i love this poem by Oriah Mountain Dreamer.  you can find the whole thing here.  i have it in a sweet little book that i came across this morning while i was cleaning out my studio.  my chalkboard has been blank for a while, so i decided to write parts of it out.  a little inspiration for the next few weeks...

hope glistens...

anger burns.

despair lurks.

faith shelters.

realization dawns.

hope glistens.

the tall skinny...with lace...

i really love this one.  i think it's the unusual shape.  or maybe it's the colors...creams and beige and gold and beautiful florals.  but then, there's the lace...i do love lace.  and the cover...so girly.  did i mention how much i love this one?  i am kind of attached to it.  i wrote up the listing yesterday, but i wasn't able to hit publish until just now.  i know someone else will love it too...

real...

You become.  It takes a long time.  That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby.  But these things don't matter at all.  Because once you are real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.
-Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams-