Spring is reaching out her hand, pulling us slowing out of winter. I hold her tight, interlace her fingers with mine, chasing that embrace. Dark days giving way to air glowing with gold and I cannot wait.
Even my paintings are filling with that increasing gold light.
Sometimes I feel like I need to give myself a bigger break. I am so tired. I feel so worn out on so many days and then I sit and let myself feel it all. My husband locked down in a hotel room this week, half a world away, because of a recent car bomb. That fear I live with in every waking moment while he works in an unstable country. Living on an island where fog can be so thick that you cannot see out the door; where earthquakes bring midnight screams and blizzards appear out of nowhere. Of course I am tired...
But there are...
sunbeams and buds and frost covered decks. Eagles in the sky and deer in my backyard. Shells and stones to collect, coffee to smell in the morning.
Kids to love and raise.
Reading now: Lost in the Valley of Death by Harley Rusted. I read the review in the NY Times and was unaware, until I bought the book and read the author's bio, that he grew up right here on our little island.
It's a book about seeking. Lost souls and that search. India. Mystics. Danger.
