I don’t want to complain about the weather. It’s a subject that we Brits spend an inordinate amount of time pursuing, mostly to complain – ‘ooh, it’s so cold!’ or ‘ooh it’s so hot!’ are the general gist of cries that can be heard up and down the land.
It’s just that I’ve spent most of today in my studio, sewing of course, piecing together the sets of twenty-one blades of my Dresden quilt that is still under construction. I’ve developed a bit of speed and have managed to put together ten roundels now, although I’m debating whether to finish the ‘flowers’ before selecting the centres and backgrounds for each block or whether to finish some blocks before going on. It doesn’t sound like it’s a hard decision, but it will affect the outcome if I choose colours poorly, so maybe I can curb my excitement for long enough to make a wise choice.
I looked out of the window whilst I was sewing – probably not the best of ideas, as I should really watch what I am doing, so as not to stitch my fingers together – life would be mightily difficult if I did that! What did I see? Rain. trickling down the widow pane forlornly. The trees are droopy, heavy with raindrops weighing down each leaf. The sky a pale, titanium grey. I can’t quite comprehend how it can be so dull outside when in here I have such beautiful, vibrant colours.