I’m still here, walking on a gray sidewalk laced with tree branch shadows, carrying kale chips and a small quilt to a birthday brunch.

I’m still here. The cold winter air, which is not as cold as last week, brushes my face, rouging my cheeks.

I’m still here, walking in and out of the shadows of buildings, some of them new.

I’m still here, listening to a distant siren and wondering how and when this country will ever emerge from our current chaotic emergency.

I’m still here, listening to the rustling sound my parka makes as I walk.

I’m still here, with another birthday in the rearview mirror, wondering how many more there will be. 

Some days I think: give away all the quilts, not just the bins of fabric, the ribbons, the beads, the glue sticks, the cut up and felted sweaters, but the quilts, the baby blankets, the pillows, the little felt mice. Give them all away!

I’m still here, noticing how the melt patterns from the snowbanks look like mountain ranges.

Walking past another series of razed buildings, I hear the winter sparrows. How they congregate! How they sing!

Thank you Nancy for the fun paper menagerie! The birds are my favorite. They’ll be flitting in and around my paper counter-calendar for the next many months.

It snowed off and on today. Light, icy flakes. No accumulation.

This is another view of the demolition site, notable only because all the clanking, thunking, and beeping of trucks was very audible from where we were standing, which means it’ll be very audible from inside our house.

Did I mention puddingstone? There will be jack hammers.

And now it’s time for The Pitt.

Dog sitter – check

Tickets to Legacy Museum and Whitney Plantation – check

Accommodations near where above photo was taken (Oakley Plantation, where James Audubon briefly lived — that’s his desk above) – check

Starting in Montgomery and traveling through to New Orleans, I couldn’t be more excited! I’ll be sure to bore you to death with tons of pictures when the time comes (next month).

February 2. It’s not looking like the rolling catastrophe that was January is gonna ease up any time soon. He’s gonna sue Trevor Noah now?

If you’re on Threads, you can read someone else’s (long!) summation of February DAY ONE here.

Yesterday, I added to this old blue and gold scrap and trued up the edges.

I’ve always loved that term of art: to true up a piece.

I’m not sold on the late-addition moon but I may continue to (somewhat mindlessly) adhere scraps to the blue linen which is thick and hard to sew through so we’ll see.

Here’s the vertical Camden Maine quilt. It is defying my attempts to make a little house WITH PERSPECTIVE. It’s getting there but you can’t believe how many attempts this represents.

Meanwhile, I’m turning 69 in a week and I am feeling some kind of way about that. I thought I’d feel this way about 70, but here I am feeling it about 69.

Let me reiterate though: I do not take these years for granted. Not one bit. And most of you know why.

Lots to love about my protesting neighbors, but my very favorite part about this morning were all the honking horns from passing cars.

Oh, and someone brought a bullhorn and played Springsteen’s new song. Then, This Land is Our Land. Then, she read the Bill of Rights.

Meanwhile over on Instagram, Hazel is fundraising for a nonprofit in Minnesota. Check it out.

https://www.instagram.com/p/DUJRbTmASV-/?igsh=NGljaGtmam0xdDU0

Tonight, it was leftovers and Prime Suspect. For some reason we’re watching that old series again.

Last night after viewing the new documentary about movies in 1975, we watched Taxi Driver, which I had never seen.

I was somewhat nonplussed by Taxi Driver but the documentary brought up a lot of feelings. That’s the year I graduated from high school. That’s the year Saigon fell. That’s the year Jaws came out.

It’s late and I’m not all that coherent right now, so I’ll say good night!