Saturday Morning. I’ve filled the car up with gas, done the week’s groceries, and am sitting at the dining room table quilting. The quilt is definitely a Something for (Almost) Nothing project, as I found the pattern, complete with little plastic templates, tucked into a quilt book purchased for 50 cents at a garage sale, and the fabric is from my scrap bag. As I quilt, I am mulling–or is it brooding–over the fact that after decades of women’s lib, that I am not out circling the earth in a space capsule, but just sitting here quilting, like something from Little Women. All I need is a hairnet. I’m listening to a “Modern Scholar” CD lecture called “The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World,” and while I may look like I’m quilting, I am actually flying over the Great Pyramid of Cheops. It’s fun. Still, is this what my world has shrunken to–my dining room table? I survey the quilt, whose folds resemble hills and valleys, and the crazy quilt squares looking like a farmer’s fields, and I even see the blue of a flowing river. I once was lucky enough to visit the Bronte parsonage in Haworth, England, and can remember seeing Emily Bronte’s bedroom. About the size of a closet, or a prison cell, depending on your perspective, this is where she had dreamed of Heathcliffe, and had known towering passions as she roamed the moors of her imagination. I always think of that little room whenever I feel discontented, wishing I could travel more. Sitting here on a Saturday morning at the dining room table, listening to Lecture 4: The Walls of Babylon, I have traveled thousands of years back in time, hovering above the Hanging Gardens, seeing the lemon trees and smelling the sweet scent of roses. I return to sewing, and, again, happiness sneaks up.