by Emily Dickinson
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
I stitched this 5" square over the weekend for Jude Hill's Magic Feather Project.
It was inspired by this feather found in the middle of my path on Saturday while hiking near Loch Raven reservoir.
I had carried anxiety and worry along on my walk...and I was trying to leave them on the path and not bring them back home.
My brow was knitted and my head was down when this black, spotted feather stopped me in my tracks. The path was muddy and wet but the feather was not. Just lying there perfectly in contrast to the matted and decaying leaves that covered the trail.
I bent to pick it up, delighted by the treasure found. And in the moment, the worries seemed less important.
And I felt that the feather was sent to give me hope...a lightness of being.
So I took hope home with me and used it to stitch a feather for Jude...
Thanks to the walk, to my husband, to the feather found, and to Miss Dickinson for easing my load.
And the little break from Tiffany was nice too.
And thanks to everyone for all the great suggestions in response to my last post. It was a brainstorm of ideas that really helped me get "unstuck".
Today I'm back in the Tiffany saddle and coming down the homestretch.
Happy Monday everyone!
P.S. Through this online feather identification guide from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, I discovered that my feather is from the wing of a red-bellied woodpecker. Just thought all you naturalists were dying to know ;)