It's snowing and blowing today, making the streets slick but everyone seems to be taking it easy. I hope we get less accumulation than the weather-guessers say, but I'll probably have to shovel or snowblow when I get home no matter what. I guess I should be happy that I can do that when I need to.
How's your writing doing? No one ever comments so I don't know if people stop here on purpose or land here accidentally on their way to someplace else or what. Thank God for the little ClustrMap over on the edge; when I see the red dots on the map I know I'm not just hollering into the void.
February 8--Hansando Island, South Korea. The island in the distance looked like a perfect cone. Green and fuzzy with pine trees, it looked like something a child had drawn. Sophia carefully drew it into her notebook making sure to preserve its precise geometry. She would paint Hansando, she thought, use her art to solidify the memory forever. In the margins around the page she made notes of the colors to use and how she planned to communicate the feeling of the air and the fragrance of the camellias that bloomed in profusion on every slope like stars in a dark green sky.
Sorry it's so short. I ran out of steam. Enjoy your day. Shovels at the ready!