I knitted some dishcloths and a small twine scrubby a few weeks ago. It's still hard to imagine knitting anything more complicated than a dishcloth, but these were a fun endeavor and I was happy with how they turned out.
Watch: Broadchurch with Olivia Colman and David Tennant.
Read: I read Pigs by Joanna Stoberock last month, a commentary on what we have done to the Earth and each other. Also read was Where the Forest Meets the Stars by Glendy Vanderah. I was pulled in by the title and how the description reminded me of The Snow Child, but this felt like a Lifetime movie. Will and Testament by Vigdis Hjorth was about a fractured family with secrets and unresolved, hard feelings. It was well written, but I found it depressing and went back and forth about continuing to the end, which I eventually did. I loved Berlin: The Twenties by Rainer Metzger. Amazing photographs, from an era and city I feel I know from another lifetime.
Listen: I've been listening to the Poetry Unbound podcast that started last December. Hearing poetry read is a powerful experience. Pádraig Ó Tuama has a beautiful reading voice and his brief but contemplative thoughts on each poem are so lovely. Also in my earphones is Sabbath by Wayne Muller. I grew up in a family that observed a Sabbath, so this idea is not new to me, but it is one that I have not practiced since I was a teenager, and grudgingly then. Though I currently don't identify with a particular religious Sabbath, at this stage in my life I welcome the kind of peace and restoration observing a digital or other kind of Sabbath could bring.
How has your week been (aside from politics and coronavirus)? It's been beautiful here. Sunny, a bit breezy, not too cold. The back yard has been a bit neglected all winter, so I started doing some cleanup. It's so tiny it doesn't require much work, but I pulled some weeds, cleaned out the beds, and cut up some trimmings that have been laying in the corner since fall. I bought some pansies and tucked them into the window boxes out front, perhaps a bit too soon, but I just couldn't wait. Every morning they are laying down from the cold of night, but by afternoon they are standing up and reaching for the sun once again. It felt so good to be working outside; I reveled in the scent of turned dirt. After telling my husband I don't want to put up the hammock this year because there's barely room for it, all I could think about was laying in it right then, cloudgazing, gently swaying, the sun warming my face.