I watched a bumblebee stretch in the sun. On its front and hind legs it scratched its back, just under the wings, first with its left middle leg, then with its right. It popped out its wings, flapped them twice, and lifted off. Unsteady, it bobbled about an inch off the ground, bumping its feet now and again before it finally flew off.
We’re all a little slower in the cold.
There’s a scent of ice water and rocks and pine forest, black bogs of peat and permafrost. The wind rolls like surf through the trees. Even the suburbs seem wild for a day.
Today is the first day of sweaters, of woolen slippers, of a double blanket in bed with the windows wide open. A cool head and a warm heart – my best sleep in weeks. I felt so good I flew in my dreams – down green hills and across a highway (only now as I write this do I recognize the place near my father’s home town
Yesterday was a perfect day.
Jenny and I took a long walk, at least twice as long as our usual. We met children running and biking, and a wonderful couple who gave us their lawn sign: SAY NO to war with Iraq. (they would get another)
I hoed the flower gardens for weeds, fenced in the blueberries (after the deer had already gotten to them) transplanted the foxglove (from its starter pot) and some inch-high baby hostas (I think).
I fixed two leaky toilets and a heating vent.
I baked bread.
I ate two huge helpings of jalapeno-spiced macaroni & cheese, and fresh broccoli, with a banana-vanilla-chocolate-sauce-grandmother’s-cookie sundae to polish it off.
I went to bed tired and satisfied.