Day after Deaf Day

I had a rather rough week.  It’s gone, and there’s no reason to dwell on it. But even though the worst was over by Friday, I was still utterly exhausted on Saturday night, when I hit a huge low, became acutely homesick.

Mary had offered me her house for the weekend while she was visiting her family, but I couldn’t take her up on it; I had to be here. So I sat in the studio Saturday, using up wet sheets left over from the week’s demos on little objects, available for advice.  I skipped dinner, went into town and splurged on a recent novel and some takeout…but then, hit that low when I returned.

Fortunately, I got some sleep and it’s helped. Today it’s lovely and sunny and warm, in the 80s. It is the Easter holiday and there was a massive egg-hunt. During the week I made two rather silly eggs to contribute to it (as well as two martini glasses for one of Friday’s two events, the only one I attended), but the very last thing I want is a crowd right now. I’m skipping everything today: the hunt, the brunch, wireless access in the studio, and the studio itself. I may skip dinner and wait to publish this till tomorrow as well. I found some window screens and am airing out the winter-musty house where I stay, while reading my novel on the porch in the balmy air, eating my own food, doing laundry during my actual laundry hours for once, drying my jeans in the sun and being deaf and peaceful, relaxed and content. Later, I’ll go for a walk.

Two weeks from today I’ll be in southern Ohio, visiting a dear friend, and then, home: to Paul, to Lupe, to my garden (I found some seeds in anticipation: flax!) and to my studio, where I’ll be able to return to my own work. Spring Concentration at Penland is not like a residency, at least not for instructors, but it’s utterly beautiful here in the mountains; the wisteria has begun to bloom up here, and the lilacs and dogwood and tulips are in full glory, irises are just peeking out enough to see a tip of color, and the green has crawled slowly up almost to the peaks. I’m sorry I’ll be leaving before the rhododendron show, but I’ll be very glad to be home, too.