| | I have problems with Winter. Snarly, snarky, surly problems. I don't like feeling this way. Especially when, honestly, I love the way the weather looks. The sky around the farm is so amazingly deep. Great gusty gray clouds burling through. And the pasture is all dried and golden brown, and it sings in the wind. How is this not contentment? I have been so happy at the farm in a real, easy, normal sort of way. The occasional serious, stomach-turning glimpse of joy has made the aware of it. But now, with the short days and the dark rain, I sit there sad, watching the cottonwood lose its leaves. I wonder if maybe I should be medicated during this time? Would it make me more even? Would I still be able to write like I write now which is something I love? Would I still see the contrasts? I think maybe I will just take this time, this nasty season, with its yearning and its ill-fitting daily tasks, because it makes me aware of how much of me wants to just pick up and leave at any given moment. It is good to know yourself.
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| | Posted 12/15/2007 1:42 AM - 28 Views - 0 eProps - 0 comments
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