I just realized that it's February--again. (it only took me 4 days) I know we have one every year and it always muscles into the calendar right after January so it's in the coldest, grayest, most depressing part of the year but I'm just not ready for it this year. Not yet anyway. Stuff breaks, yarn tangles, the sun hides most days, and now I hear that Mercury is in retrograde so there's that to contend with, and it's the Full Moon. Dissatisfaction and crankiness are rampant, at least here in my clothes. The only thing I can do is hold on and be glad that it's not Leap Year.
We got just the right amount of snow yesterday evening, a very light snowfall that barely covered the bare spots and tidied up the dirty curbside snow but not enough to need hard shoveling. I'll probably scrape it off the driveway before I leave for work just to keep it from compacting and making ice. We've been lucky and the big, bad snowstorms lately have missed us. Whew.
February 4--J.D. Marston, Sun Rays Thru Snow and Fir Trees. She lay at the bottom of the hill looking up at a black and white world. It was cold. She felt it working its way into her bones and shivers started to dance up her spine. She should move. She should get up and find a place to get warm. It was very quiet. How had she gotten here? Was she alone? Like someone flipped a switch, sounds barreled over her as she lay there, cries and screams, moaning nearby. Was she making that sound? There was a crackling like crumpled cellophane. The air smelled of metal and burning fuel. Was something on fire? She saw a face loom over her, its lips moved. "Are you all right?"
Oh! There's a bit of sun out there, and a bit of west wind blowing clumps of snow off the tree branches. Sun on new snow is so pretty, isn't it? Too bad it's also cold. Better get moving.