The river basket is calling me and there will be some time for stitching I hope.
I have been putting off cleaning up the dye deck but I may do what I can with it between the showers.
My tradition of visiting Elizabeth Bartons studio so we can use up each others spent dyestock may have to be put on hold until next fall so I may dig some un-dyed cloth and put it into my tired colors knowing that the results are going to be sighs, whispers and echoes. But that's ok, they will all be beautiful.
I need to do some shop keeping - the cupboards are bare - so whatever comes from the dyedeck this weekend will be available soon over at Random Acts of Dyeness.
All this activity is predicated on what I'm finding is a post chemo pattern in Jim's treatment. This weekend he will be in a resting phase which somehow translates into less anxiety for me even if there's a little more steppin' and fetchin'.
I think I've recognized that I was born into service in many past lives. This would account for my affinity for the staff of Downton Abbey as opposed to the upstairs folk who seem to spend all their time fretting about how things appear to others. The staff knows in their hearts that the work of their hands matter, to whom or why is not something they dwell on. It's the doing of the thing with pride that gives them a deep sense of purpose.