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.