Comfort in the familiar

I've been mostly housebound this last week and it has been absolutely wonderful. Spring in New Mexico is not my favorite season. We've had consistent winds for weeks and weeks (sustaining at around 51 mph a few days ago) and then yesterday, what I didn't want to see but know we need: snow.

One good thing about icky weather is not feeling guilty about hanging out indoors. I've been hooking most every day, and continuing to weed out things I am pretty sure I'll never live long enough to need. I've also been watching "How to Make An American Quilt" (1995), which I captured off the satellite some days ago. It's one of those movies I could never see too many times. I feel like I always learn something new from the stories of those women, as they reflect on their lives through their quilting: stories of love, love and loss, love and forgiveness. I love the cast and the home in which much of it takes place. I rather envy the idea of having the sense of continuity that these women have in the form of their years' long weekly quilting group. I love at the end of the movie, when Sophia says to Finn "I was a diver." In those few words she reached out to let Finn know that she had once been someone else, someone young, vibrant and talented, all before she had let her life be overgrown with pessimism. Cut to one of the last scenes: Sophia, inspired by Finn, taking a dive off the high dive. She had it in her all the time...just like the good witch Glenda told Dorothy. Something for all of us to remember.