Spring.  Really. • Late March/Early April 2021 | Notes Archive »

We have had a wicked winter. Everyone knows the characteristics of winter 2020-2021. We needn’t list them. We have all encountered solitude of a profound kind. The usual weather conditions have prevailed, added to numerous new challenges. My daughter, Karen, shared with me that she feels very proud to have experienced life over the past months, on her own, in a little cottage, very much in the country, with long nights shared with two dear cats. I agree. Eno and I have had each other -  Lizzie, our Australian Shepherd, and Boo, our NH cat. In many ways, it has been wonderful to concentrate on the very important companions in life. There have been overwhelming moments; there have been tender times of such commitment and love. We still have big heaps of snow outside, but we can see earth along some of the borders.

 

Snowdrops Emerge.

 

We moved on March 23 of last year, and then the pandemic rolled in. This year we can look forward to quietly watching what will emerge after all our work of the summer and fall. Then we will start to fill in and nourish what we have. We love our life here on Elm Street in this delightful cape. It has now earned our deepest respect for the shelter it provided on some deadly days and nights. Recently, the winds have rattled the windows and blown shakes off the roof of the barn, and whistled past the bedroom windows as we buried ourselves under the quilts for security. But . . . daylight finds us facing new days, with renewed cheer. A good house is the blessing of life. We say prayers of thanksgiving for our good house.

There are surging emotions in all of us these days, and I am finding it very difficult to express my thoughts. I will refrain from the pressure, and just wish you all a happy springtime, with happy trails to explore.

 

The Hedgehogs Waiting on Their Couch for Spring.