Snow this morning. Just enough on the ground to be white with more small flakes falling. There's a little wind tossing the snowflakes around and rocking the twiggy bushes where the bird sit, waiting to be fed. There's a ruffle of water across the silver surface of the pond. The world looks so peaceful.
Started the border of the crocheted chenille scarf yesterday. And I dyed roving. Just four ounces but I really like the result. The first run I did with dark colors, aiming for a winter forest feel. The two pieces I did turned out differently; one fell into the water while I was steaming and has more blue in it. But I can spin them separate and then ply, or take pieces from each. The other batch I painted with the brightest colors I could think of. Keeping in mind that this is a learning experience for me, they turned out pretty well, too. I think I had the roving too wet, though. There are patches where the color drifted away from the fiber and left light spots. I posted a picture last night. Roving dries fast. I have it all bumped up and in my antique sewing box, waiting until the wheel is free to spin it.
Talked to my friend that is having so much trouble at work. The world isn't peaceful for everyone. She has decided that she can't stay; I really think it's past time. So much stress isn't good for a person. I tend to avoid confrontation myself, and admire her for trying to cope with the difficulties that keep confronting her. But there comes a time when you shouldn't try to keep fighting and it's more courageous to let go.
Heading out for work today; I fill in occasionally at an antique shop down the road. It will be a nice walk through the snow; by the time I leave it will be warm enough to enjoy it. The dirt road I walk down is called Concord Road, named after an old Primitive Baptist Church that was built in 1833. I always loved the name; pronounced here with the accent on the second syllable. Our family reunions are held there, although I haven't been able to go in a long time because of work and staying with my grandfather. Sadly, the membership of the church has fallen but some of the people in the community have made the upkeep of the old building a project. There is a special beauty about an old church, graced by time and the devotion of the people. I'm not one who congregates but I can feel a serenity and peace in old holy places. Small wooden churches and quiet groves, and even the top of one mountain here. There was a beautiful old church in Tintagel, Cornwall, with a cemetery in the churchyard along the rocky coast. There was a holiness deeper and more ancient than Christianity in those walls.