As I look at my stash of yarn I am filled with hopeful thoughts of intriguing possibilities.
I realized, as I was walking to the bakery, that that is also probably why I love living in a neighbourhood where every house is different. The doorways, in particular, attract me. I wonder what lies behind them, what sorts of people live there, and what mysteries they hide. I imagine all sorts of possibilities.
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| I love this pinkish brick house with its iron railings. |
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| This gated carriageway stirs my imagination. |
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| Who lives behind this immaculate entranceway? |
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| Steep stairs and aged vines. |
The starting of a new project fills me with a similar sort of pleasurable speculative anticipation. Will I encounter roadblocks and, if so, will I be able to puzzle my way through them? Will the finished project work out as imagined? If not, will the result be something equally pleasing or even better?
I've just begun a new project. Can't blog about it because it's going to become a submission for publication, but I can show this much:
