Still life is not one to let you sit in one place too long. Almost before you know it, new routines form, and life has order again.
Saturday mornings, I leave the tv off. I sit and listen to the birds at my neighbour's feeder and listen to the fountain on the pond behind my house. Saturdays, even here in my older person neighbourhood, people sleep in and it is just me. I think about slipping out to the bakery down the way, to get one of the lovely scones they make fresh every day, but I never go. There is something about going out that makes the quiet of a morning turn into the do part of a day even if it is only 7 a.m. . I love Saturday mornings best when I sit and just listen.
It only gets better. Saturday mornings are for podcasts. I look forward to this all week. Saturday mornings are when I listen to my podcasts. The Savvy Girls, the Knitmores and then, the Knit Girllls are my Saturday morning trifecta of knitting. These lovely women, these remarkable people share tidbits of life and knitting and spinning and travel and so much much more.
And then, if I am perfectly honest with myself and with you, I usually turn to this. I don't know how that happened and while it isn't 100 percent of the time, lately, as often as not, I am there. It sure is a long way from folk rock. Part of it is that it is an old form. I appreciate things that last. In books, in art, in history. What is it about these things, that have kept them alive and kept these stories relevant? That is always where it starts for me with these old forms of music, these old books and then it takes on a life of its own. Seeing through the crisp lens of a snippet of Mozart or a phrase of Austen opens up entire worlds to our eyes, and allows us to see and acknowledge depths we might not otherwise be open to seeing. Or accepting.
Knitting is an old thing too and these knitting podcasts keep me believing that one day, there will be something special about us, about the people of our time that will live on.
There. See how that goes? The blog post moves pretty much like a perfect Saturday morning. Special memories and dreams moving into Saturday routines with a dip into the weird and questing world inside my head.
Saturday mornings are for treasures. Treasures lost. Treasures found.