JOURNAL ARCHIVES BIOGRAPHY LINKS PHOTOGRAPHY POETRY
|
|
Some years spring can surprise you. Not that it sneaks up on you, because something your waiting for with such great anticipation cannot exactly sneak up on you without you knowing it. No, it surprises you because you are watching for it, waiting for it as if your life depended on it. The surprise is how good it feels when it finally arrives. That is something I have never been fully prepared for, that touch-of-god feeling that comes unbidden when the icy winds and white carpets from the north depart and the sun sinks its teeth into the soil. This morning marks the first day of spring. We slept deeply last night, as we always do when the bubble of warmth we call our house is cool but not frigid. When I pulled back the covers, swung my legs over the side of the bed and shoved my feet into my slippers, the full impact of eleven degrees Celsius hit all the nerve endings in my toes and shocked the tender flesh of my instep. Perfect for sleeping, and for wakening. Our morning fire roared this morning, and within thirty minutes the thermometer read eighteen degrees, a very comfortable temperature. After enjoying our coffee, and of course Attila enjoyed his snooze in front of the fire, we moved on with the day. This morning is bright and brittle. It is minus eleven degrees. My seat at the computer affords me a view of the entire living area of the house. As I turn my head I can take in the dining area, then the kitchen, then the fireplace and finally the big window and sliding door that lead to the deck. The sun is coming in low from the south and north east windows. It penetrates to the back corners of this small living space. There is no place on earth I would rather be at this moment. By this afternoon the clouds will blanket the landscape and rain will fall. The temperature will rise above freezing, and the white landscape will begin to melt. It promises to be a day of extreme and sudden transition. In a few moments I will rise from my seat, pull my wooly hat over my head, wrap my scarf around my neck, slip into my parka and winter boots and strike out into the frigid morning to enjoy the parting beauty of a long, long winter. |
RECIPES :: Cast Worldly Distractions  Spring sunshine on the sideboard. By the Easy Chair Red River by Lalita Tademy (The first part of this book is a graphic description of an actual massacre. My own experiences with violence are burned into the flesh of my existence. So, although I respect and affirm the telling, I cannot read without a broken heart. I read the first section of the book by first-sentence-of-paragraph-only. The second part of the book deals with surviving, and that I can read, every word, with hope and pleasure.) Weather Sunny Temp -8°C Press 103.5 kPa Visibility 15 km Humidity 62 % Wind Chill -16 Dewpoint-14°C Wind SE 21 km/h |
Page by Page: A Woman's Journal
|
