Last month I was mooning over spring, thinking about Chico and the birds and the flowers and pining for it like it was a crush I had. It was a sweet little hopeful crush that I had on spring.
The past two weeks have been like January all over again. Cold and blizzardy. And I have this kind of stunned feeling about it, like spring laughed at the notes I passed it. Now I am turning into this bitter woman who hangs out in the bar with the seasons, but sits by herself and stares at her beer. “Eight new inches of snow on April 7? Figures.” “Snowing again this morning? It would.” It is a physical kind of bitterness, like my body is bitter about it. I keep getting this bizarre disoriented feeling, like I have no idea what time of year it is.
This is my dryspell-breaking post.
1 comment:
I am enjoying getting to know you again, Sweet Amie. When I was the one "supervising" a traveling impressionist exhibit from the Philadelphia Museum of Art one summer, I was amazed by a Van Gogh painting in the exhibit that looked more like one done by the old Dutch 'masters' - dark and dreary, a still life, I believe. I did not like the 'feel' of it at all!! I loved the reds of the Japanese style painting above - so alive, so vibrant!! Take care, my beautiful and creative niece - Aunt Lynnie
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