maybe it will be alright

These last few days have presented some real challenges.  I feel sad and weary.  There are situations at work which have come to a head and need addressing.  There are issues at home which seem insurmountable.  And last, my father has a fever, is not eating and probably has pnemonia. Did I even spell that correctly?  I don't think so.


I worked in my sewing room this morning while the snow and freezing rain had their play date.  I knew that I would stop when the roads were passable so that I could pick up mom and take her to see my father.  Until then - I sewed.

I like the clean no-nonsense graphic of this print.  I like that I can wedge it in next to virtually ANY fabric and it will enhance; it will cause the union of fabrics to sing.  I had something in mind ...

And, as is always the case in piecing - one good fabric leads to another and before all is said and done, it becomes absolutely clear WHY I hoard build a substantial STASH!  Fabrics are like oil paints or colored pencils - it is impossible to have too many.  The same is true of yarn.  You all know it's true!
Everyone in the northeast is talking about snow and ice and the like.  It's been a banner year.  Here's a shot of our icy palace -

Harley has been struggling with the snow.  His weight makes it impossible to leave the paths without getting bogged down.  

Last night he left the path because the icy surface of the snow sneakily supported his weight - for at least 500 feet before he plunged through the snow.  I have no images because the camera was the last thing to consider - I had to make a path out to him to bring him back - he was totally incased in chest-high snow and powerless to go forward, sideways, or reverse!  It was frightening.  I was afraid that he would hurt himself while he struggled to find his footing (which did not happen!).

I am worried about my father's condition.  When we arrived at the nursing facility we found that he was placed on oxygen - a first.  One never has time to prepare for these changes, no matter how hard we try.  We make little jokes and call him Lazarus because he has defeated his odds, time and time again.  It's that good German/Dutch stock, we say, he's indestructible.  He'll outlive us all. 
But that is not going to be the case.  And I know it.  I feel this in my bones.


When I went out to the feeders this morning, my heart sank.

At first glance, there was one solitary feather.  But then, as my eyes focused in the dim morning light I realized that there had been an assault.

Mother Nature, I know that the hawks have to survive, just as the chickadees do.  But my cardinals?  My cardinals gather around the feeders in large numbers - sometimes tipping the scales at 14 or 15!  I am completely committed to feeding this community and I don't know how to assimilate this loss.

It breaks my heart.  The only consolation is that I offer safflower seed every day.  So, my cardinals have a hearty breakfast - a substantial lunch, and their scarlet beauty, which moves me beyond expression, is supported in the only way that I know how to care for them - by providing good seed and fresh water year round.
It occurs to me that my father's condition is somehow connected to this loss.  Don't ask me how.  I am unable to process feelings these days - I just go with the flow.  I have faith - I pray.  Maybe it will be alright.