From grey to here

This weekend was a bit grey; heavy grey skies, heavy grey throat and hands, heavy grey feet. I stood on my utterly dead balcony, and mused on the greyness and the deadness of it all, looking at the deceased flowers. Except they weren't grey, really, they were purple,and orange...


and the one tomato that will never ripen was a deep-seated comfy green. In close-up, decay became astounding. The greyness in my head shifted a little.

Then I found Free Wool (or rather it found me), and this entry. Gorgeous. So Isabelle and I spent the morning picking the dead flowers and making our own paper. It's not quite dry yet, and extremely fragile (I think it might break if I look at it too long), but oh! how very far from grey...