Finally, it’s spring. Phew.
It’s been a horrible winter. A long slog. Lots and lots of stresses, large and small, mine and those of my loved ones, crowding in on a life already crowded with incident.
You know that feeling when you go on a hike up a mountain, a hike that’s a little longer than you want and you’re not enjoying it anymore? You know that part where the trail doesn’t seem to be rising anymore and yet, somehow, you also don’t seem to be at the end of the hike either? That’s where I am.
So, I’m no longer breathlessly climbing, wondering when the pain will stop and wondering if I’ll make it at all.
Clearly, I’ll make it, but sheesh, I want to get to that big flat rock at the top of the mountain, the one with the view, and unpack my picnic.
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5 comments:
I hope you make it there soon and that the view is much more glorious than you'd ever let yourself hope.
Warm regards,
Ana María
I think you will make it, and when you'll get there, you'll also realize that you appreciated the climb, too.
softened and acquiescent,
the spring with her bees humming and gnats dancing threw her cloak
about her, veiled her eyes, averted her head, and among passing shadows
and flights of small rain seemed to have taken upon her a knowledge of
the sorrows of mankind.
Hi Anne,
I wonder if on your way you might wish to read and discuss Hamlet in an online round-table exercise I'm planning for early next month? Sarah W. suggested you might be interested.
Nigel: nbeale at nigelbeale dot com
Thanks, guys!
I'll be back en plein forme soon, no dobut...
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