Yesterday I observed the messiness that comes with building a house. A process I know next to nothing about, by the way. I paused to chat with one of the workers whom I have known since we went to church camp together years ago. He told me that the footings were finally in place, though he did not also school me in what footings are. I doubt that they have anything to do with walking. No matter, he understands, so the homeowner need not be bothered to. 

I am in the middle of a baby quilt. The people who eagerly anticipate it as a way to welcome this child know a little about how quilts come together, and have made suggestions. But really it matters more that I understand sashing, and stitch length.

In truth, the pile of blocks and fabric is messy. Six or eight hours stand between the nest of colors now and the smooth quilt top that will be filled out with batting and backing. 

Someone else might raise their eyebrows at the disarray, but I see emerging beauty. Plus, I actually hired someone to clean my sewing room, which absolutely was out of control, so creating this project with music playing will be a dream. 

Being immersed in the middle part is fun. A finished quilt, and two-story house are marvelous too. I would not trade them. 

But today I am grateful to have fabric in my lap and a design in my mind waiting to come to life.