I’ve been working on a swing skirt in cream on cream facets since last summer. It’s four panels and I’m almost to the end of the third one. I’m usually quicker to finish projects, working away diligently until I’m done, but I’ve had a lot going on lately so I’ve limped along on this one. However, it is completely out of character for me to begin a new project before I’m finished with the last one. But there I went yesterday, starting a coat kit in turquoise before the cream skirt was done.
I wondered what had happened to me. Where did my sense of order go? How dare I put even one stitch into a new project?
Then I realized we’re never finished, we just stop working. Or maybe we sometimes just need to move on to the next thing and let in a little color. Sometimes we get bored with cream.
Oh, I’ll finish the cream skirt, and soon. It was never my intention to let it sit there, neglected and incomplete, languishing in my sewing bag. But I wanted something brighter for my project, so out came the turquoise. I wanted to sew the turquoise with red thread in Lisa’s shop window. Lisa’s shop window called for color.
People like color.
Four-year-old Lily liked color today when she walked by the window with her Daddy who owns the coffee shop four doors down. She picked up my red tomato pin cushion. She handled my silver stork embroidery scissors that I tied a length of light blue ribbon on so I don’t lose sight of them. She held my spool of red thread in her tiny hand and looked it over. I asked her if she’d like to learn to sew. She said yes, then she left and pulled her Daddy back down the street by the hand while he stood on his skateboard.
A lady with a camera hanging around her neck liked color today when she passed by, stopped and gave me a huge smile and thumbs up and said “Hey! That’s nice!”
Redheaded Ellen liked color today, too, so she came in and told Carrie and me about her idea for a modern day version of chastity panties. She said the hook was “giving in without giving it up.” She said there’d be a jewel here and a high-waist there and seams and all kinds of things that made me blush and reach for the $2 fold up fan I keep in my bag for just such moments. I’m afraid I’ve got enough southern belle left in me to sometimes need to collect myself and feel a cool breeze on my face upon hearing certain words. She asked me if I’d make the prototype. I politely declined, but told her where she might get such a thing done.
We’ve all got color in us. And some days, when it is required, we put the cream down and pick up the turquoise.