Yes. I recognize these signs all right!

And they are so very welcome!!

What am I talking about you ask?

Clearing my desktop of clutter, sorting and filing and rearranging in my studio, cleaning my house, putting MUSIC on again, even getting my front porch into some semblance of order ... these all mean that I'm not going to want to be fretting about them pretty soon as I'll be otherwise occupied with creative endeavors.

I can live with more hodgepodge than you can imagine unless you've browsed through the hodgepodge of this blog in search of any sort of order - but I can't WORK in it. Not the way I want to work, that is. 

I can write just about anywhere; a hefty hunk of LittleMamm of Iona was written with my mini sitting on the tailgate of my decrepit little pickup while Duke and I were camping out down Phantom Canyon in the Colorado Rockies, for example. See, the thing is that I don't actually consider writing to be 'work' in any real sense of the word - because it's like an instinct or something, and I can't stop it from kicking in whenever and wherever it feels like it. 

All this de-cluttering of my environment is a sure sign that I'm going to want as little visual clutter as I can manage - and that means my subconscious is gearing up for something visual. Since there are any number of ideas flitting in and out of my mind, it's going to be fun to find out which is going to pop first.

So.

The canvases are getting stacked where I can easily get at them.
Paints, palettes, water bowls, and brushes are lining themselves up.
Pencils, sharpeners, and erasers are gathering with sketchpads.
Prismacolors and pastels find blending cloths and q-tips - ach, I better get to the store first thing in the morning for baby wipes just in case the soft pastels decide I'm going to use them ... my fingers and hands always collect the colors, and the dust gets everywhere.
Fabrics stack up near my sewing machine and kit of threads and 'stuff'.
Other fabrics, and a big piece of canvas, head for my stretching screens.
Leather and laces, feathers and seashells, beads and micro-beads, pinecones and cedar shakes sort themselves onto the long counter - just in case.
Shillelagh sticks stand in their bucket, waiting for me to get around to them, and a couple of long staff sticks hover over them.
Strips of bark, canned grape juice, vinegar, and lengths of cotton also wait - their day will come some time during the coming Long Dark when my wood stove is hot hot hot and water boils in the big kettle.
Cans of sealant wait as well, until I have something to use them on.

And so the bits and pieces take their places and wait for my attention.

They won't have long to wait!

I'll have my pacing route all cleared, distracting clutter out of sight out of mind, and everything I might possibly need close to hand.

Yep.

This is going to be fun!