The pond in sits in a depression. If one lies on a raft in the middle of the pond, the world outside the pond exists only as trees, a hill, and sky. Light travels across the pond and shimmers up the trunks of the trees. There is a constant visual dance that would entertain me for hours while my children swam and the world went completely away. If one lies on a raft in the middle of the pond, the world outside the pond exists only as trees, a hill, and sky.
Light travels across the pond and shimmers up the trunks of the trees.
There is a constant visual dance that would entertain me for hours while my children swam and the world went completely away. I wish they would grow exactly where I want them to grow. I wish they would arrive like presents every spring. With this weaving I presented myself the challenge of creating the garden long dead that had kept my head full of colors all summer long. I wove the weaving on its side and did not know until the weaving was finally off the loom whether or not the garden had survived.