The winds are howling from the northeast. Taking with it whatever is not held down and hopefully also this strange restless energy, this lost feeling of damage and cold and discomfort.
This has been a challenging time between my car accident and the “whiteout/ blackout” taking with it the roof of the building on the deck and a week of catching up time. We are almost still in a directionless stupor.
This fresh March air feels good, the rushing stream is clear, and the soft earth is greening.
This has been a challenging time between my car accident and the “whiteout/ blackout” taking with it the roof of the building on the deck and a week of catching up time. We are almost still in a directionless stupor.
This fresh March air feels good, the rushing stream is clear, and the soft earth is greening.
But these winds are scary, loudly crashing into trees, the house, and anything in its path. Louder than trucks rumbling up the road, it is a force both ferocious and unending. Rain was sideways today and trees were swaying like running giants.
Buckets of water driving across the land - but at least it is not snow. And though there are parts of the garden still snow-covered, daffodils are popping out and before long we will be raking.
The trees are budding; we have walked in the garden, and started fixed fences.
Bryan is ready to plant peas, though the lettuce planted in the cold frame is now under water. We are secretly thinking summer and ready to balance on the precipice of longer days than nights, of hard work and harvest, tee shirts and eating outside.
Glad to be home now with the family, hope the power holds out.
Glad to be home now with the family, hope the power holds out.
