Saturday, March 13, 2022
She had described her demons. “I’m sorry,” she added in the litany of her recent offenses. In the dark of the night, I stoke the fire. The months of her critical care had taught me lessons that I guess I must have needed to learn. Many of them are a surprising offshoot of daily care and attention in almost a format of condensed life. Among them was the ability to start a sustaining fire in the fireplace! (And not require an over abundance of newspapers and kindling).
The approaching spring.
According to the calendar, winter releases us from its hold in seven days, but these March temperatures have been nothing but brutal. The sun shines brighter and longer in the daytime.
Never are the skies a blue of depth. The skies are the lightest of blues as if bleached with the confused clouds of snow and rain.
“Winter or spring? Winter or spring?” The weather skies debate with clouds and sun while the west wind whistles the winter away. Snow melts away from the house. Icy sidewalk edges turn to puddles which escape with the whistling wind.
I wish you much love, Luv.
And, of course, peace.