The forsythia branches are bare of the little birds who inhabit them in winter. I wonder where they go when it’s too cold even for them? And why, when they’re wise enough to go to deep cover, I or anyone would do otherwise.
Imagine my fingers, literal and proverbial, being pried from the door jamb by my will, personified as a strong counter-force of some sort, as the one I refuses to go outside – it’s cold out there! – and the other insists, reminding me that but for church, I have been a house potato for a week and that pajama day might turn into pajama lifetime if I’m not mindful.
Will the car start? I confess I do not know and am filled with mixed hopes – let it . . . don’t let it . . . and I don’t much care who wins . . . cos baby, it is cold outside!
With water lines no longer frozen and heat working, why would I want to go outside? Life, it seems, demands it.
I’m off. Wish luck – for me and the birds.
Imagine my fingers, literal and proverbial, being pried from the door jamb by my will, personified as a strong counter-force of some sort, as the one I refuses to go outside – it’s cold out there! – and the other insists, reminding me that but for church, I have been a house potato for a week and that pajama day might turn into pajama lifetime if I’m not mindful.
Will the car start? I confess I do not know and am filled with mixed hopes – let it . . . don’t let it . . . and I don’t much care who wins . . . cos baby, it is cold outside!
With water lines no longer frozen and heat working, why would I want to go outside? Life, it seems, demands it.
I’m off. Wish luck – for me and the birds.
Now is the time to pick some of those forsythia branches, bring them inside and put them in water...instant spring. Well, not instant, but in a couple of days you'll feel like it can't be far away.
ReplyDeleteNice! I'll have to try that.
Delete