Fiber Art Threads of Gratitude express satisfying and joyful reminders of our connection to the Earth through the design of colorful weaving, quilting and other cultural artistic patterns that connect to our creative spirits. It’s, also, a metaphor for the fabric of life in particular moments.

I’m grateful for being in the moment that I’m in with all its craziness, doubts, challenges, opportunities and blessings. The first thing I saw this morning outside my bedroom window was a squirrel munching on something. Seeing it gave me joy.

Carried out part of my Sunday ritual listening to Krista Tippet’s On Being radio program on NPR. It was a repeat, but I love this show for its insightful conversations. Her guest was the Rev. Dr. Serene Jones, President, Union Theological Seminary, who said “Our masks (not the COVID masks) are falling…The bigness of our world has to be present…” Their conversation was about how the construct of so many of the lies and falsehoods that form society are being whittled away. And we’re having to face the truths of those lies. There’s no turning back.

After lounging a bit, I went out to my garden. A horrible wind storm the other week finally took out my little hoop house. The front collapsed and the staked straps were the only thing keeping it from blowing away.

I’m grateful for the vegetables growing inside. Although I’d had my doubts, some beets and carrots may be harvested. Pulled a few radishes. Carried my seedlings from the kitchen and placed them inside my bent up, wind blown hoop house. They will have more room and light to propagate out there.

Checked out my outside raised beds. Kale is coming back. Let my cabbage collards bolt. The yellow flowers are cute and I plan on harvesting the seeds for planting later. Watered everything inside and out.

Hostas, crape myrtle budding, hydrangea greening, among other plants are springing forth.

I’m grateful…spring is here. Today is Easter and a friend reminded me April 4, also, is the day in 1968 that Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated. I live 3 hours from Memphis and visited the Lorraine Hotel, which elegantly memorializes that dreadful moment.

We’re going to figure out how to live without those masks; the COVID ones and the ones that keep so many from seeing and respecting the bigness of our world. Once we do, the metaphorical and physical fabric of those masks with disintegrate for us to survive as our best.

Live and love the best you can, ya’ll. Take lots of moments to create your zen. ~ Ellen Harris