So many below freezing days, and then this storm of heavy and wet snowflakes that stung our cheeks as we walked. The pond, transformed by a layer of ice and snow, was a white meadow ringed by bare trunks. I snapped a few photos and then the wind told us it was time to turn back. Just as we started on our way home, I looked down and noticed: she’d worn her purple sneakers instead of her boots. Silly girl.
Month: February 2015
letting go
Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful. — William Morris
We are moving in two months, so I am taking William Morris’ words to heart. I am making choices, selling off, giving away. I feel stripped down to a ribbon inside. I move from room to room, pulling items out of corners and closets. I hold each thing in my hand, feel its weight, and I whisper to myself: And this? Does this matter to you? Will its loss tear through you, leave you broken and wanting?
The whispered answer:
Just let it go.
lake, sky, woods
I leave the trail and follow a narrow deer path along the shoreline to a small, sheltered cove.
I stand very still in sparse underbrush and listen to voices echo across the water.
I drop to my knees in the middle of a stand of hardwoods.
I bring my face close to moss, bugs and fallen leaves.
I hover over clusters of soft, grey mushrooms.
I stare too long at a patch of sunlight on bark.
I lose hours to the forest.
I wear the woods home:
dirt on my knees,
burrs in my hair,
mud on my boots.