I awoke this morning to a gentle dusting of snow on the trees and ground. A faint melencholia settles around me, the same sort of gentle shawl that the trees are wearing... light, smiling a little sadly, a protective coverlet preparing us both for the winter to come.
Tony sits at the table with his coffee, the inevitable book propped in front of him. My own current tome resides on the bedtable, its call to me unanswered.
In a strange way I want to let this feeling drift over me completely, wrap up in it, and let the tremendous changes of this past year really sink in.
So much... so much.
In many ways, life here is lonely. I mean that not so much as a complaint as perhaps a comparison to the life I led before. It is a contrast so great I am not sure how even to describe it.
From a constant surrounding of people to a solitude of just a few, or more often, of the one.
I have no desire today to look forward or back. Today, I would rather allow that sense of reflection give me pause, a moment in time to catch my breath, take in the enormity of the new path I travel. I feel a great need to get my home in order, paint the rooms that still wait, prepare them for the people in my life I hope will be here soon.
It is not really MY home, but as long as I am here on this ranch, it is mine to make home.
Such changes.
Such changes.
A time now to heal perhaps, rest my soul, allow that ache to come through finally, so perhaps, just perhaps, it will abate and move on.
Just a little snow...
