The last days of our indian summer have slipped away. Last night I retrieved my heavy winter coat from the back of the closet and quickly resewed its torn lining. It smelled exactly as it should of, considering it had been the back of a dark closed space for a year. I've tried to cover the smell with flowery perfume until I can get it to the dry cleaner.
The summer was hard for me. I sense that I am not the only one who felt the rub of some heiniously aligned stars. For those of us who made it to the other side (and a word of prayer for those who haven't yet) there is a freshness in the new winter. I, for one, am not ready. But I've never really been ready for the good times.
Isn't it funny how we know exactly what to do when disaster strikes, but the moments of calm always flub us up? Or maybe that's just me.
The Boy and I each bought a plane ticket home for christmas. Well, to my home anyhow. We're going to be staying at my sister's house along with my mom. Shopping will be had. Eating will be done. We're hoping for snow.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Its Winter
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3 comments:
I am so excited for you that you get to go home for christmas! That's great!
I hoping for snow for you as well.
It's spring in Melbourne, and I am reluctant to put away my jackets, because I am not looking forward to the painful heat.
Winter has come here too. I'm not ready for it; though, you're right, I am ready for the hard summer to end. May winter be as beautiful in Paris as it is in Bath.
I always find the quiet times are when I find myself setting off on the biggest damn fool crusades... or I somehow get swept up in them when I can't possibly find time for them...
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