At The Needle

Day 362: I have always been an early riser. Even when I was very young, I would be up before the sun, reading or playing as I waited for first light. Conversely, I go to bed earlier than most people. I am seldom awake after 10 PM. These days, I am impatient to start quilting. My vision is such that I cannot work under exclusively artificial light, so as soon the sky lightens, I throw back the curtains and take my position in the north window. A few hours into the morning, the point arrives when the sun rises above my neighbour's woods to the east, glares at me as if it resents my customary morning cheer, and slants across my work until I swear at it and push the frame aside. Half an hour later, old Sol gives up tormenting me and I resume my work.

Quilting is something of a winter occupation, like making an afghan or knitting a sweater. It's too warm to be under a blanket during the summer, however loosely draped. Yet in summer when the hours of light are long, I would like to spend more time at the needle, but wildflowers and waterways speak with louder, more insistent voices, pulling me away. "So much to do, and so little time," I think, and try to divide myself among my many pastimes. I cannot imagine why anyone would want to watch TV.