Clouded Corneas

Ceaseless rainy days pile into each other softly, with the sounds of flannel and fire in the grate. My muscles want spring to be here, they are cramped and useless, but some part of me is made for the introspective muffled quiet of a dark afternoon, where your only company is the boy you love (reading) and the smooth slide of wooden needles through fairy-green mohair yarn.
Of course, one craft is not enough for a professional putterer like me, and so I have been buying silver wire and beads of glass and bone, and making coiled and beaded earrings. I thirst to make things (and I've recently discovered I can wear earrings again, if they are really good metal). It's the only thing that satisfies me most times. How strange, in a way. Doing crafty stuff isn't really expressing anything, like painting or journalling or illustration. It's just a sensual excercise; I recently bought yarn made from silken threads that are discarded from sari factories in Nepal. The knotted ball of yarn tugs at me, the colors are so vivid and knotted and beautiful. I like color combinations that make my pupils refocus. Does this happen to you? You can physically feel your eyes adjust when you look at them.

I want all this beauty etched into my corneas!

We have lapsed into that peculiar Kai-and-Mykle sleep schedule that is half day and half night. We wake around 12 noon, and stay up till 2 or 3 in the morning. I would usually miss mornings, but the time of day is obscured by thick weeping skies and intermittent white hazy light breaking through.