Preparing

I thought by now life would have resumed much of it’s pre-2020 look and feel. That’s what the provincial “restart plan” told us, anyway. Instead, I feel like I’m in an old movie where the walls are slowly closing in around me. It’s heavy and it’s getting heavier and now we’re heading into the dark months.

Randomness

It feels like Friday, but it’s Wednesday (I almost said Tuesday. That’s how out of sync I feel.) I finished reading another good book last night (Cilka’s Journey by Heather Morris) and now I’m on the prowl for my next read.) The more I stay at home, the less desire I have to go out.

Five Minute Friday – Possible

I’m joining in with a group of writers for Five Minute Friday where we’re given a prompt (this week it’s POSSIBILE) and write for five minutes about it. We did it. We survived something we never dreamed possible: lived through a year like none other in our lifetime, one fraught with deep potholes and crazy

Tired

Man, I am tired. Weary, yes, of the din of news cycles and media of all kinds, but the weary in my mind has morphed into something physical. I wake unrefreshed after a full night’s sleep. My body aches with pain I struggle to identify. It’s there, but where? Everywhere? Nowhere? What kind of pain?

Late Winter

We think about taking the dogs for a walk in the sunshine after lunch but the wind kicks up again. Instead, we leave the pups at home and go for a drive. We stop by the community garden for the first time this year and see nothing reaching through the straw covered area where we

A Little Fatigued

It’s noticeable. Dawn comes earlier and dusk, later. We’re on the other side of the recent cold snap , tiptoeing ever closer to spring. There’s still a ways to go, and spring fever hasn’t kicked in yet, but there’s a sense of coming through that’s undeniable. Meanwhile, we’re still jigsaw-ing and enjoying multiple daily chess

Change

The cold snap eases its grip slightly, begrudgingly, giving in to the inevitability of change. If we hadn’t rocked over our front flower bed last year, I imagine I would have seen the green of brave crocuses by now. They would have been covered by snow, and uncovered again, and I’d marvel at their tenacity