Hanging by a thread: an ode to winter, an ode to clothes.

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It is cold. As I write, weather.com informs me that the Fahrenheit thermometer reads 14 degrees. In such cold, life becomes even more acute. A few mistakes can cost one his life.

So, yesterday I went not into work. Instead I read a map, ate lots of cheese, drank a beer, conversed with people.

Also, I have started a new project. Many moon cycles ago, months and months, I received a shirt from the government in appreciation of my decision to join AmeriCorps*VISTA. Understand, this polo-styled shirt is much too big. Would I ever wear it? No.

Saturday I stayed up late - until 4:30PM. It was a day to do something different. In the early morning, I took inventory of my clothes, pulled out the polo, decided to do something with this. Perhaps, I'd give it away. But, no. The fabric is much too precious. Then, I will reduce it to fabric.

I've been ripping it apart at the seams. I use a seam ripper. It's tedious work. The first lesson such an activity teaches is patience. Then, it's fun, like solving a puzzle.

Next, I will paint a picture.

I've changed my clothes as well: a heavy coat, less cotton, bare skin against wool. And while I'm inside, why should I wear a shirt?

I'm looking for a sheep's wool to spin into yarn.

And, the ode:

So eat a grease, Mr. Winter.
Melt your ice with fatty goodness.
Wait a while. Spring is coming.
Bare feet walk without a shirt.

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