February 22nd, 2015

The Red Tree

"Don't forget your own wilderness wish that gets buried in snow."

This should be a short entry today, as I mean to finish Part One of "The Aubergine Alphabet" today. And I want to wash my skanky hair and maybe even go for a walk. It's a little warmer today, currently 27˚F, though it supposedly feels like 32˚F. This time yesterday it was twenty degrees colder here. We're supposed to reach 37˚F, and the sun is supposed to emerge, but I see snow falling out there. A few big flakes. Yesterday we had another squall, and it dumped a few more inches. I fear the small amount of melt we may get this afternoon, because tomorrow's forecast high is only 13˚F. Whatever little snow melts today will be treacherous ice tomorrow.

Yesterday, I did 1,423 words, I-K. I am especially happy with "K is for Keyhole."

Last night, on Facebook, I wrote "If adoring Dolly Parton singing "Jolene" means I'm not a feminist, then...there you go." Also, "Writers, before you refer to yourselves as prosers, do be aware that this antiquated word not only means someone who writes prose, it also means 'one who talks or writes tediously.' (from Merriam-Webster)." There was more Scrabble, too; this time, I beat Spooky by 32 points.

I have a couple of photos from yesterday's snowfall, behind the cut:

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In many ways, this has been the strangest, most surreal winter of my life. I look at those photographs, and I'm reminded of that. And, today, there's some peculiar sorrowfulness pressing in at me. For now, I have to ignore it.

Aunt Beast