Friday

Well, I got busy again. I woke up in the middle of the night and wrote an intro to my Great Writing Project. First in my head and then on my iPhone. And after that, the wheels of the brain began to spin and there was no way I could easily drift back to sleep. Nor were the cats going to make it any easier. Ed was babysitting them downstairs (they are NOT allowed to stay inside overnight while we sleep upstairs) except that he had dozed off, so one feline beast was meowing by the bedroom door -- whether to play, to be a pest, or to ask for a hand in opening the door so he could relieve himself -- this I do not know. I grumbled my way downstairs and chased him out the door.

As I was fixing breakfast, I noticed that my candle had given us its final glow, so I reached for a replacement. I have abandoned pines and firs in favor of grasses and flowers. Last night it was roses and wild ferns, and today we are onto "The Gardener" (with hints of tomato, white tea and honeysuckle, by Boy Smells).

In other words, we have transitioned to an eager anticipation of the next season. 

During the morning hours I rewrote what had been my nighttime fancy. I have to say, I didn't change much. I'm feeling a bit wild right now.

Maybe it's the wind.

In the afternoon -- it's Snowdrop time! The sun is brilliant but the wind stays strong. We go inside. And we bargain. Please bring in my valentines and my backpack, please! I'll let you take as many pictures as you want! (Since school was on winter recess on the true Valentine's Day, they celebrated today. A chance for the kids to write their name twenty times. Plus one for the teacher.)

It's a deal. (I don't abuse my privileges. just two.)

As I head back after dropping the girl off at home, I get a snow squall warning on my phone. Be prepared for zero visibility! (How do you drive in zero visibility?) And isn't that a wintry slap for you?! Enough snow to cause you to wind up in the ditch, but not enough to ski the next day. 

I dont end up in the ditch. But the night work is catching up with me. I lumber in tired as an old dish rag and Ed asks -- should we order a pizza delivery?

How luxurious! 

So luxurious.

Today -- pizza at your door. Tomorrow -- well, I don't know. The world?