I re-discovered something wonderful over the weekend. Everyone knows it, but we forget.
It is that we are small. We are little. Part of a huge continuum of connections between generations and with nature. The cottage is nearly a hundred years old, in Ned's family for generations. I remember so many things that happened there, he remembers more, but the place remembers the most. Looking up. Looking down. The spiritual feeling on that island warmed me even more than the fires did. I am not succeding at communicating the enormous sense of peace and happiness that filled me the whole weekend, but it seems urgent that I try. Solitude and quietness and closeness to nature, those things nurture us all, I am convinced. Maybe this is why I make quilts. They will outlast me.