This little guy is living in the flower pots that line up against the porch marking the edge between the snow and the house. The bird feeder hangs above and he comes out periodically to snatch the fallen seed. Soul-o spends most of the day and night on watch at the windowsill. Singing a strange song when he spots him.
This past week I feel most of what I did was eat and sleep. I am feeling better now and since my voice is just starting to come back, I will spend the next two frigid days going back through my own Small Journeys series to recharge my batteries. See where I left off. Listening to myself. Resuming my regular posts, here and there, starting Saturday. I thank you all for your support and patience as I rebalance.
Without the needle in my hand I still found myself thinking and writing a lot. Satisfied with the result of that time spent. I feel clear in some ways and foggy in others. It is more than just the cold that is weighing on me this season. Maybe those stories will unfold later. Right now, I notice, have a sense of, the light changing.
Change is a kind of fuel. Food. I feel stronger.