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.
But honestly I just don't feel like saying a lot about it. Like the sense of spring that fills me today despite the snow expected this evening, the sense of something that has to do with everything I am considering remains unutterable in terms of what that actually might be.
And so it seems to go. I rest between doing and saying. In the between. A seam unstitched. A moment in March that has lasted longer than a day.
This place used to scare me. Now it seems more and more like home.
This morning, a weather alert and another winter storm to hit this afternoon and last until tomorrow. The icy kind. Power loss alert from the electric company. March arrives as a lion.
I like lions. The wild side of a cat. March is a month of change. A full spectrum of lion patches are forming from stray scraps of self. You never really know what March will usher in. I love March for that.
One corner of the wedding quilt. Last night. The cloth folded and placed before the fire. For tending the fire. To kneel on when keeping the flames going. Old knees.
The old star holding the reflection of the flame. That is what I noticed early this morning. How the warmth dyed the cloth. For a moment. It was quite beautiful. And I became friends with winter again.