In celebration of another two (totally unexpected, at least by me) days of sunshine, here's how that light looked on dry milkweed pods in the meadow. Cold air, warm light! Better than cold, cold.It's been too long a day for me to write at length tonight. My thoughts are veering toward books I want to order (in the morning), one of them PREDICTABLY IRRATIONAL: THE HIDDEN FORCES THAT SHAPE OUR DECISIONS, by Dan Ariely, another the one about memory that has either GLASSES or EYEGLASSES in the title. I forget which.
I was already tired before getting e-mail about a probability problem that's been driving me crazy for a couple of days. I'll put the link in tomorrow for those of you who need your brains twisted into pretzels.
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The minute I woke up this morning I knew I'd overslept and missed a lovely dawn. The rising sun had already thrown off its rosy negligee. Now it was just a silver dime caught in the branches of a birch tree.
"Told you so," said the cat, who had tried her best, knocking my glasses, my book and my 'nother book off the nightstand.
"Ya, OK, so c'mon-get-up-let-us-out," said the dogs. And the day began.
It was still a pretty walk, with lots of blue sky, the air full of spangles as snow sifted out of the trees in sunlight. Blessed sunlight.
And then we were home and had breakfast and did a little bit of work, honest, and got distracted by the possibilities of the blogs of Neighbors Around the Bay and here we are, looking at milkweed glowing in rose gold light against the cold - and it's dawn.
Gerry, I was just thinking this morning, on my way into town, about the adjective "sun-kissed" and how once it would have evoked a whole sensual range of experience rather than simply a brand-name orange juice. Shall we reclaim the language, or is it corporately owned?
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