It’s extra scary and unpredictable. It feels more risky and more rewarding. Despite having an outdoor show and fully outdoor rehearsals, we ended up missing two families due to covid during tech week. So we wiggled and adjusted (and cried for the people we missed) and we kept going. The way that the show goes on, but it’s fundamentally changed. Multiple young actors took on new lines during tech week, an alum came back to help us and I ended up taking on a full unexpected part. Despite all of this, and maybe because of all this, I am so proud of this show– the changes we made, the questions we pushed, and the ways we dreamed together. Congratulations to all the School Free Players.
back to the typewriter
all we are is where we have been // all we feel is where we are not
In the pre-dawn hours, as I circle the sun once more and with the new moon’s dark start, this echos in my body again and again.
with faces drawn by my kiddo
Now that I’m looking, these golden colors keep showing up. I planned to start the year with this beautiful knit-along project from Wool and Honey. It’s not a color I would usually choose but I listened to my 16-year-old and he was totally spot on, especially for this season.
Did I knit today? Not really! Instead, kittens and a dramatic spill meant cleaning a similarly shaded juice off a lot of bedding and the opportunity to start 2023 with fresh line-dried everything. Lesson? Spin your stories, laugh a little, bike some more, dream as you go and keep looking for the golden. It’s everywhere, really.
I didn’t mean to but still, I found myself along the water again.
It’s not the most peaceful pool of remembering but it will do for a pause; a breathe in-between, a moment for all the softness, all the flow, all that lingers but begs to go.
Solstice in Vermont
provisions for holding the light + dark with all the tender that I can bear
Hold fast dear ones