March always brings a sense of transition. Or clarifies it.
And then reminds me, really, that to reach for and hold an understanding of change is a growing need. Season reassures. The turn turn turn of it. How it splits open what we think we know. And fills it with possibility.
Spring hasn't sprung but it lies underneath the day.
Warm night rain has left only a thin carpet of slushy snow. The spirit has been lifted. The fever is high. After a few quiet days, words are welling up. Expect a flood then.
8am. Not as cold but awful outside. Rain over ice with more snow expected.
Burning almost the last of the wood. Not sure how to get any delivered until a bit of a meltdown occurs. So just one fire in the morning and then space heaters run to keep things comfortable till sunset.
I noticed the path out was reflected in Soul-o's eye.
So here we are. The man in a chair across the room. Reading international news on his laptop. And me really feeling the need to stretch out. 2:30 PM And now, when I finally get around to hitting the publish button, 50 degrees! Not for long but still this is what I love about March.
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.
This is the thirty second New Years Day here. There is a clearer view in winter. The old sea looks back at me again. It is very cold. I don't know what prompted me to open the windows and let the 22 degree air blow through the house at 4 AM. Maybe just to feel the place. As it might be without all I do to manage it. Anyway, I spent a few hours warming it back up. It was some good fresh air though.
The studio is open today. I vacuumed. Cleaned the windows. Cleaned the worktable.
I looked at this beautiful wood. Exposed. Open. Just a table.
It looked back. Again.
I don't know what prompted me.
I took the curtains down. The room is washed in light. There are two chairs now. One for my old self and one for my new self.
We did not open the champagne. We ate fruit.
Soul-0 was quite the party animal though. Drunk on cold wind.
Today I will keep the fires burning, And eat leftovers.
Maybe take a walk, breathe.
Oh yeah, I created a new folder for photos and named it Jan2015.
A soft morning. A softer transition than expected. Colder but only a bit.
A November mist, like a curtain separating yesterday from tomorrow. Leftover moisture from the recent warm days. Leaving. I can almost hear it going. And so it will begin. The cold will take hold. We are prepared, yet that feeling of confinement is unavoidable. The strategy for winter this year has more layers. Managing them. All triggered by weather. On the coldest days, the ones with below freezing temperatures, we will again retreat to one room. Saving wood so we can really spread out on more moderate days. Managing it day by day with close attention. Rocking right with it. Undoing schedule and sleeping when it makes the most sense.
My blog schedule will change with the deep cold. Expected soon. I try to make a projection for winter, but instead I decide to stitch the mist. Unsure how to do that really.
The smallest stitch I can manage. A single thread. A Shapeless haze perhaps. With no edge? Mist is confusing, there but not there. And the confusion quickly takes form as a patch of uncertainty.
Simple and clear. Ha. I'll need a lot of these.
So that is how winter might go. There is a beauty in that.
PS for all you travellers joining me in Small Journeys, I added a layer to yesterday's post. That might happen in this season of uncertainty. You might just check the monthly index now and then to catch the order of things.