The most beautiful rainbows I ever saw were at Bryce Canyon National Park. My family was camping during the summer monsoon season. Most days the afternoon thunder showers would provide welcome relief from the heat of the day. But this day the rain started early and kept on steadily.

This is one of my favorite things in the world - a freshly dressed loom, ready for weaving to start.

This is a world full of possibilities - innumerable possibilities (though not, as my mathematician husband reminds me, not ‘nearly infinite’). A tabula rasa.

My first exposure to the story of Noah and the flood was in first grade Sunday School. I don’t recall the exact details, but I’m fairly sure it included flannel animals going two by two into a flannel-graph ark. What I do remember clearly is the end of the story. The teacher told us how God put a rainbow in the sky as a promise that He would never again destroy the earth with a flood.

I woke up this morning to the sound of rain on the roof. This has always been a magical sound, and after years of drought, a most welcome one. Eventually the sound ebbed. I got up to boil water for a cup of tea.

I just cut a project off the loom - a wool scarf for my husband Bruce. I’m done weaving - but I’m not finished!

A Sunday, pretty much like all others. A new day, a new week, a new year. Full of possibilities.

At last - I can talk about it.

I don’t often take commissions for my woven clothing. My projects are usually planned out well in advance, using the same threading for several variations to save warping time. But when my friend Risé asked me to weave a special scarf for daughter Chelsea for Christmas, I readily agreed.

I wove on the red Star of Bethlehem stole last night, the news playing in the background.

Red is the liturgical color symbolizing the presence of the Holy Spirit. It is worn at Pentecost, at ordinations, confirmations and on the feasts of martyrs. As I wove, the words of a modern hymn repeated in my mind.

So I get this magazine called Artful Blogging. It’s eye candy, printed on high quality paper, with profiles of blogs and bloggers, and lots of beautiful pictures. I enjoy reading it, and I’ve gotten a lot of good ideas and advice from it.

Looms can be noisy beasts. Depending on which loom I’m using it either clicks and clacks or thumps and bangs. For the past couple of weeks, I just can’t bear the idea of the noise.

There's an article that's been circulating on my Facebook feed all day. It references "new" research that indicates that messy people may be more creative than neat freaks.

Sometimes I pray when I weave. Sometimes I sing. Sometimes I hold weird, random conversations with myself. Like this…

Today I started weaving the purple Star of Bethlehem stole. It seems appropriate on this day to weave in the color of prayer and penitence.

We have something of a St. Patrick's Day ritual at home. I make Bruce's favorite dinner - which happens to be corned beef and cabbage - and then we watch "The Quiet Man" …

For some time now, I've been thinking about creativity, and the process of making things. Lots of people have been. I've even been writing about it a bit. Lots of people have been. I think it's in the air, or water, or something.

But then Liz Gilbert wrote this…

So, Moses is up on the mountain with God. He’s been there for forty days. This is when he gets the stone tablets with the ten commandments. But in addition, God gives Moses some very specific instructions on the construction of a place of worship - the Tabernacle.

This is where the story gets truly exciting - if you’re a weaver.

Where does the creative process begin? For me, I find it can come from either a thought, or a thing.

My New Year's Day tradition includes roses. Not a Rose Parade - many years living close to the parade route in Pasadena kind of finished that off for me. No, New Year's Day is the day I traditionally prune my roses.

So try this. Some cool, clear evening, gather around a fire, outside, under the stars, with friends. Find someone who is a really good story teller, and have him - or her - tell the story of Genesis, from chapter 1, verse 1 through chapter 2, verse 2. Resist the temptation to read it silently, or aloud in stentorian, scriptural tones. This is a story that is meant to be “told.”