My posts have been infrequent here, and it is not because I have been very sick or very tired or very busy. Most everything has been infrequent. Washing dinner dishes has been infrequent. Writing has been infrequent. Baking bread has been infrequent. Honestly, I don’t know what I have been doing with my time. Reading books, I guess. Trying to keep up on Wisconsin’s political news. Eating peanut butter and jelly on the couch. And granola. I always seem to be eating granola (my current favorite granola recipe is a riff on the granola recipe in Lucid Food made with soaked walnuts and loads of lush coconut oil).
Last spring was so different from this one. Writing happened and gardening and my house just seemed like a den a of creation, a little greenhouse. I had a little baby growing and feeling spring leaves with his little fingers for the first time. I had a shrinking belly, not a growing one.
I try to live a life that balances creation with consumption, but that balance changes when I am pregnant. The work of my life that usually delights me, writing, kneading dough, slowly stirring pots of food, seems less vital and falls to the wayside. Though my hands are idle, my body is shaping life, and the creative thrust that used to go elsewhere all seems directed to growing our next child. But I still do want to make some things. The crafts suddenly have appeal. I want to knit and sew.
I am terrible at knitting and sewing.
This is a change the fascinates me. Have any of you experienced this, or is it something particular to myself?
Either way, I am grateful for this time, as unindustrious as it may be.
Happy March, friends.