Daydreams and memories meet at the fly thing bench.
The past few snowy days have driven me indoors.
And I'm at home here. I'm not house-bound, yet, but will be by the end of February.
Until then there is plenty to do: on several sides I'm faced with an unending pile of clutter to be sorted out as it gets added to while deciding which of it to discard; there are abandoned manuscripts in the computer that need an infusion of interest; there are the musical instruments - guitars, a banjo and a mandolin – on their stands next to the computer silently waiting their turns to be played; across the room there is the fly tying bench.
The bench Is a two...
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