Turn the tap

Fairbanks was hit by early-onset winter this week.  Just shy of 20 inches of wet snow after a week of rain left the roads a mess and felled countless trees.  Over 10,000 homes were without power and many still are.  It is times like these when I most appreciate the fact that our home's systems rely entirely on us.  That our powerline is a 20 foot cable from the connex to the house.  Grid failures don't affect us. Of course there are times when we pay our own dues.  We were without power from February through June of this year as we worked on the generator and got it back in shape.

Its a luxury, for sure and for certain, to be able to turn on light and heat and music at the flip of a switch or the press of a button.

But what has made this week THAT MUCH MORE amazing?  What luxury I am absolutely reveling in??  

We have running water.

We have HOT running water.

It has been over two years since I have been able to take a shower in my bathroom, wash a load of clothes in my washer, or turn the tap in the kitchen.  I can now do all of these things!  Seriously.  There's this metal tube that curves out over my kitchen sink.  And when I turn this metal handle next to it, water comes out.  If I turn this other metal handle and wait a few moments... HOT water comes out of it.  It is insanely amazing.

The Darlin'Man fixed what was wrong with the pipes connecting the well to the house, and then he fixed the hot water heater.  My father-in-law installed a small propane heater in the bathroom, which has meant that not only can this increasingly-pregnant and increasingly-sore mama shower after a long day...  she can also luxuriate in a hot bath in a warm room!

Folks, this is both magical and revolutionary to life-as-we-know-it.  Hot baths or even better, epsom salt baths or bubble baths have become my absolutely favorite go-to therapeutic tool.  As this last month of pregnancy begins to creep along, I cannot even tell you how essential soaking in hot water has become!  And now I can.  In my own home.  I'm so, so grateful.

Here's to tea lights, lavender oil, rose petals and a tub of hot water!  Pure bliss.

What is your favorite self care ritual?

Equinox Turns

I love the dark half of the year.  I love the changing colors, brief though their tenure is here in Fairbanks.  I love the starry nights, the aurora overhead.  I love the snow.  The cold.  The really really cold.  The dark.  I love the way the light lingers near the horizon and never ventures overheard.  I love seeing the moon at night.  I love the way that the dark half of the year invites us deeper.  Requires us to seek out the warmth, the community, the intimacy of connection with our dearest ones.  Sings to us of the depths of heart, offers a well of creativity into which to dive. 

@ForestandFieldPhotography

Today marks the cusp.  The transition from light to dark.  Today hovers at 12 hours of daylight, and this evening promises 12 hours of stars.  Today marks our transition to the depths, as the pendulum of the year swings by. 

This year, the cold and the dark brings with it a squirming squishy bundle of new life.  My hibernation this winter will be sleepless but full of cuddles.  A transition perhaps more profound than any I have conscious memory of.  You may have to remind me of this in a couple of months when I am exhausted and on the verge of tears.  But right now?  Looking ahead?  I truly look forward to sitting on the couch in front of the woodstove, raw and open and vulnerable to the tidal pull of new life and new love, shirtless with sore nipples as we figure out this breastfeeding thing, sitting on an herbal compress and letting my husband feed the fire and rustle up the meals.  Nothing outside the triad of forming a family.

Equinox is a time of rooting down.  Of pulling our energy from the branches and the world to nourish what is deepest and most necessary.  What are your roots this season?  How will you care for them? 

Novelty yarns

Many many moons ago, I was playing around with some yarn.  This yarn was some of the many many many partial cones and mixed lots that I bought for pennies on the dollar from the woman who sold me my loom. 

I pulled out a turquoise wool, a black wool, and a fine loopy variegated bright colored acrylic novelty yarn and wound a warp.  I held the intention of using what I had rather than buying more to add to the shelves upon shelves of yarn!  I also had the vague intention of "using up" a cone or three.  I barely made a dent on any of them with this warp for a single scarf.

I beamed the warp. And then the warp sat.  And sat.  And sat.  Until a few weeks ago, when I sat down and wove it off; it had to go... to make way for wrap warps!  The weft is a black cotton that I also had on hand. 

I'm pretty happy with it, all things considered.  The many many moons through which this warp (and my loom!) sat neglected and cold also served to allow my hands to forget the rhythms of weaving.  Of how the shuttle flies, of tension and speed.  My mind still knew, of course.  But my hands had forgotten.  And so the selvedges on the first half of the scarf are truly abominable.  I didn't take a picture (its my blog, and I can curate if I want to!) but they are wretched.  By the end of the scarf, my hands had remembered.  My beat became increasingly even and consistent, my selvedges cleared themselves of loops. 

And so, all things considered, I'm really quite grateful to this scarf.  For remembering my the rhythms of the loom.