Against the window, white snow falling sideways. A jar of golden honey on the counter. Iâ€™ve been curled into the corner nook on the couch all day with my laptop. Achy: pms and the flu, what a whopper. Iâ€™ve burst into tears at least a half dozen times. DH looks at me like Iâ€™m from the moon, then offers to make tea.
The cyclamens on the windowsill are a riot of pink, and in a circle around my small boy: fluorescent green Post-it notes, crayons and stickers. There are logs on the fire and the room is filled with a steady heat and the smell of smoke, faint, the signature of winter, still here, though today sunlight until 7 and at dawn, mourning doves on the ground below the feeder.
It is time to force branches of forsythia, and to visit our neighbors to inhale the sweet heady scent of maple sap and steam by the evaporator. Time to buy Bean a new rain slicker, boots. Mud from here until April.
What are three blogs youâ€™re enjoying this month? Iâ€™m craving new inspiration, beauty, curiosity, and delightfully precarious sentences.