We drove to Syracuse this morning to retrieve some paintings, spend some time together, and as we did the trees were full of snow. I tried to draw the odd beauty of lacy snowy trees but the drawings failed. My friend Paul sent me pictures of his backyard which tell what I mean. The morning, the light, the snow, all the white stuff seemed heavy on those thin black branches.
No, it's not what we wanted to see in late March when we are all hungry for our gardens, but this morning was shockingly beautiful and we magically got to see it.
I've been trying to become a better reader, someone who retains more, who connects all the little pieces into some cohesive whole. I have friends like that, they read well. They are well. As part of that project, I went wandering around the literary journals online and I found an ear (a great little poem for Evander Holyfield) and a story about zebras making jelly. It has made me just a little better to remember all the creative out there in this snowy world. Not at all cold. Not at all frozen.
Snow melts, stories get forgot, paintings come down from walls and meals are prepared and eaten all in a day. All in a day.
A domani.
Rachael
