Willing Winter to end seems wrong. Cold days, surely, are not less precious. But, oh, this cold - not bright, frosty cold, but iron-grey cold that pokes into the bones and needles the weariness already entrenched there! Brave shoots and flowers are everywhere. Braver than me. This cold March is the last straw and I'm wishing I could weave the straw into a cosy nest and take a small, last-minute hibernation until it warms up.
It’s the Spring Equinox on Monday. Perhaps a little invocation ceremony is in order. Or, if anyone is in need of a new displacement activity, apparently there is a traditional belief, most often attributed to the Chinese, that you can stand a raw egg on end during the equinox. This derives from the notion that, due to the sun's equidistant position between the poles of the earth on the first day of Spring, special gravitational forces apply.
¶ 5:31 pm
"not bright, frosty cold, but iron-grey cold that pokes into the bones and needles the weariness already entrenched there"
beautifully written, and so beautified by your writing.
special gravitational forces - perhaps you're finding 'true north' within yourself, too. thanks for stopping by my 'not native fruit' blog, Jean.
Agree Jean, "iron-grey cold" - so depressing: my bones were aching with the cold last Monday and Tuesday. My eyes feel lifelesss with the visually dull, grey, colourless landscape. Give me the colder cold but blue skies so often experienced in New England. Anna.