Winter all but passes us by. It’s relatively cold just now, but there has been minimal snow all winter. I look at the weather, and photos friends share from places near and far, and it’s as if we are in a bubble. Strange.
In the in-between I’m prone to restlessness and melancholy. I wish for a good blast of winter to shake things up, and then an early thaw. I look at photographs taken at this time in years prior and see that both scenarios are possible.
I wrestle with staying present. I dream of gardening while I wish for fluffy snow to fall.
Meanwhile, there is this one precious day to make the most of.