snow

As the source is so far yet unknown, it could be from a dream, a childhood memory, or a vision of something yet to come, but for as long as I can remember, there has been this clear picture in my mind of sitting inside a cozy room somewhere and watching the snow fall... it is a very exact image of a defined location with the snow falling a very particular way.  In every house, cottage, camp, cabin, studio ever ventured into, the search for this space, this window, has continued, and it has always eluded me each time.  Obviously it has to happen on it's own, not to be contrived, so I would not build it... but now do find myself waiting to see if the scene will indeed occur naturally, somehow, in the studio.

Regardless, I wish it would snow.

tabby

Another thing about changing a shelter from storage to studio is to remember that some visitors may have actually prefered it's prior uses more. My grey tabby cat loves to follow me to what will be the studio and explore the empty space, softly purring in corners and mewing muttered cat comments from time to time.

"Yes," I tell him "sunshine should stream across the floor from a window here" I point out, "where you can spend hours asleep, or over there can be a cozy chair with those warm cotton quilts from the bedroom that need patching.  This is where we will put the cabinet to store art supplies, including the wool roving that you won't be able to get into then, so no longer will I scold you about that. The long work table will go here, and underneath the braided carpet you've already pulled rag bits into tufts on. We will have window boxes with herbs and flowers, and I promise to dedicate a large one just to catnip and wheatgrasses for you. There will always be tea for me, and fresh water for you. Don't you just love it?" 

And he looks at me, and cat grumbles something that I am lead to believe translated to "But where are the mice that I used to hunt here?"