A lot of what I’ve heard about in the last while is the oncoming hurricane. My dear friend, Kristin has been here. Her home is in southwest Florida.

Water. Rising water.

And here I am dyeing fabric and what I want is … water. The feel of water. The sense of being wet . That visceral connection to immersion in liquid.

I work the color into the cloth. I leave the fabric on the ground, coated in the dye. It’s on a hill. Some of the dye will gravitate downward, meld with colors below. Some will dry faster and create odd delineations. It’s liquid. Then it’s not.

I have an innocent piece of cloth. It suggests water. But its fabric. Hand-dyed silk. Dry. Soft. Comforting, even.

And, in the background, I hear the news: water is rising.

Water rising.