The sun found me this morning sitting on the massive trunk of a fallen black walnut tree in the woods in complete stillness. That’s something I’m not very often, and it was delicious. As I received the silence of the forest around and above me, my eye caught the swift tawny motion of a grown-up doe in retreat, zigzagging her way through the saplings to the northwest to get as far away from this two-legged intruder as she could. I took off my earmuffs as she got smaller in the distance, and still couldn’t hear her hooves on the soggy brown leaves. If she broke any branches on her way out of the woods, they must have been mush and punky already. How could something that big and in motion not make a sound? I have a lot to learn.

I woke up this morning as I usually do, wondering if my congestion was a sign that COVID had come to claim me, and then remembering that I’ve had congestion for most of my life and it never once sent me to the hospital to be intubated. Reassured and calm once more, I set about the morning tasks: straighten the living room, wash last night’s dinner dishes, wash the stovetop and counters down with a soapy scrub pad, and dress for the morning walk. The sunrises have been yellow and gray these past several days, and I imagine those colors in a future quilt I’d like to make. I also note here that Pantone’s new colors for 2021 are are “Ultimate Gray” and “Illuminating”, hailed as gifts from the hue gods for our pandemic-weary spirits. We humans think we’re so clever, when here Mother Nature has had the color palette well in hand for-EVER and doesn’t need to make any grand announcement when a new shade of green shows up in the spring. I love being reminded of my place in the grand Scheme of Things. It keeps my life right-sized and manageable (and I’m grateful, really, that Pantone is trying to ease a burden here, in some small way. Watch for new nonprofits to adopt these two shades as their brand colors in the months to come).

Yesterday was marked by a quick trip into town to exchange food with Patrick’s mom and sister, then back home for an afternoon of unbridled creativity. For the food exchange, we’ve got quite the air-tight system in place: pull up in the driveway, Molly, masked and cheerful in her eyes, opens the garage door, we place our bags of food in front of the open door and back away at least six feet (also masked) and she retrieves them before putting down her offerings for us to pick up in similar fashion. The whole transaction wraps up with a phone conversation, Molly back inside with Joann, the glass of the front door or the patio doors between us and our masks removed in the safety of our respective places. It’s lovely to see their smiles and their lips move as they talk. It hurts not to be able to hug them. Raw and real, I look forward to the day when the rough edges of all this have softened even a little. For now, it’s enough that Molly made us a tuna ball (white albacore and cream cheese decadence, spiked with horseradish and cayenne pepper sauce, sprinkled with dill for curb appeal on the appetizer table. Patrick and Molly’s late father, Larry, introduced this pre-meal delight at a family dinner once, and I ate so much of it that I had precious little room for the main event that followed. “Liz is here—hide the tuna ball” became the joke at every future family gathering. Larry also introduced me to caviar and creme fraiche. Let them laugh all they want, I’ll be content and noshing for the rest of my life), and sent us home with cinnamon rolls. The carb pile on the counter is growing without apology.

As for the unbridled creativity, there’s a gorgeous walnut and cherry pizza cutter handle on the cusp of completion in Patrick’s studio, and the beginnings of at least two rings on the drafting table. Meanwhile, three hand-bound journals rest in pressed silence in my creative workspace, a stack of cloth journal covers await their beaded embellishments and a dozen-plus fabric bird ornaments are ready to be stuffed with poly-fil. I’m also a sucker for any book with an added pocket on the inside cover, so we’ll see what today brings as I consider the use of envelopes I made out of road maps and old wrapping paper. Suddenly, the stillness of this morning’s fallen-black-walnut-in-the-woods moment seems like a dream…

I’ve reflected (as I do on occasion), and all this busy-ness, this motion in my life isn’t an avoidance strategy to keep me from facing down some neglected part of my psyche. I’ve done battle with my dragons and am still here, victorious and appropriately scarred (which means, no longer bleeding and now healed and getting on with it). Lessons tucked firmly in my my heart and my daily practices, it’s a divine privilege to make something that didn’t exist last week, to glue or stitch two things together that maybe nature never intended but darn it, turn out to be pretty ok. The fun of seeing an idea become flesh is still available to us, dear readers. Put yourself in that grand seat of design, of trial-and-error and laissez les bon temps rouler!

And if you must, go still and silent for a while. See what rises to the surface, gently takes your face in its hands and asks for your attention. It’ll be ok. In fact, it will be wonderful.

You are precious and loved. Remember that.