What is it about the winter and my need for more of everything?
Food, chocolate (thank you, timely Valentine's Day and Easter), white wine, naps, quilts on the bed, café au lait, 500-page books and high wattage light bulbs. I can hardy contain myself. (My pants feel much the same way.)
This clinging to too much of everything is, I hope, a function of the lack of sunlight. At least, that's what I read. (Far be it for me to indict my self-control when blaming the universe/circadian rhythms/serotonin is so much simpler.)
And things are getting better. It is no longer pitch black at 5 p.m. I've been waiting for that for a very long time. You, too, I'll wager.
The sun is shining, birdsong is audible most mornings and Daylight Savings begins in one week.
Plus, I found this bit of comfort outside my dining room window.
Of course, I have no memory of planting anything in that spot because who can possibly remember that long ago?
And yet, there 'tis.
And all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well , T.S. Eliot writes.
In March, I can believe it.