It's been almost a month since my last post and I don't know why I've chosen now to get back on board. I have ten minutes before I meet a client and have no idea what I'm even here to write. The two, maybe three, readers I may have collected in this blog universe have probably given up hope of ever seeing anything new here.
It's been cold and busy and my head has been somewhat dormant. I collect things throughout the day and shape them, like bread dough or playdough, into paragraphs that scatter like dust bunnies once nighttime falls. I formulate little things to write about......like, when the temperature drops to fifteen below.... the way the tires sound on snow that frozen or the way your lungs feel like freezing metal when you breathe. I wanted to write about the night that my cow, Patience, gave me a kick in the head and knocked me over and made me cry. I've been wanting to write about my daughter's new ambition to be an animal right's activist.
But I think when it's this cold, I get all caught up in simply breathing. I drink hot water with lemon because when I drink the well water my innards shake with cold. The thirty yards from the house to the car and then from the car to work are intense ventures. I'm just waiting for the mercury to get above zero so I can go buy those new cross country boots and get the fuck outside. My house is full of furballs because I don't dare leave my mangy old farm dogs out in this weather for any length of time. B and I have been dreaming of islands and surfboards and sunshine...planning our vacation this summer. Crafting the tunnel through which we'll navigate our way past winter.
And yet it's so beautiful. So quiet.
Everything is white and sparkles.
The stillness beats all.
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2 comments:
ahhhhh, she writes. great stuff woman, I feel like I just had an experience. thank you!
Well Paula and I are still hanging around. I'm so glad I don't live in Vermont. Chicago is bad enough. Write whenever you feel like. It is a free world.
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