Out of the blue tonight, while I was writing the traditional to-do-pack-list came into my brain: you need to be able to do a short talk about Solveig at Quilt National. Eeks!
Turns out it’s 3 minutes at the Saturday morning VIP viewing time slot.
Three minutes.
I dredged up the short verse I’d written in my journal and an haiku I’d sent a friend as a somewhat joking artist statement. I looked at the info I’d gathered about what the name could mean. I remembered that the play was by Ibsen and the opera by Grieg. I listened to the recording I’d found most accidentally that had led me to the name in the first place (better in the original Norwegian).
Perchance both winter and spring will pass,
and next summer, and the entire year:
but at last you will come, that I know for sure;
and I’ll still be waiting, for I once promised I would.
Well. That’s all I have for now.
