#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Winter Waves

“As soon as we notice that certain types of event "like" to cluster together at certain times, we begin to understand the attitude of the Chinese, whose theories of medicine, philosophy, and even building are based on a "science" of meaningful coincidences. The classical Chinese texts did not ask what causes what, but rather what "likes" to occur with what.”
― M.-L. von Franz

I went out early into the warmer temps under the grayest sky. Story hung heavy over the river, trees, yard and wetlands. The snow would come, it was coming soon, it had a skyful of trillions and trillions of flakes that would be falling, all day. This stormful morning, so calm, unworried. No stopping anything. I walked and a light snow had fallen during the night, coating all the ice. Little breaks here and there. Happy February, it’s here. Now it seems the snow will stay for awhile. I texted my dear friend, friend from eighth grade, she lives in North Carolina, and we see each other rarely, but I had dreamed of her, this morning, dreamed of us, we were moving into an apartment together! Our younger selves, and it was so fun to be with her. I texted a hello and she wrote back: I was thinking of you yesterday! Of course! See how we like to cluster our thoughts of each other together? We made a plan to talk, and did so in the afternoon, I walked out into the snow, it was falling now, heavily, filling the trees, my boot was finally dry and now shuffling through inches of snow wet again, but I didn’t mind; it was pleasant and not too cold and it was good to talk, we talked about our high school ages and selves and mothering and grandmothering and how the decades have passed and all we’ve discovered. I went in, and the dogs too, to dry off and make dinner and bake a banana bread, my mother’s recipe, I haven’t baked in quite awhile and I was out of sugar after the eggs and milk and oil and applesauce and vanilla and salt were in the bowl, so I improvised and opened dozens of sugar packets I had lying around. And, after dinner, sliced the bread warm and served it up nicely to Frank. I wrote a poem from the letters today; got helpful feedback, some small changes I’ll make and tonight the wind has whipped up the snow, it’s blowing crazily against the windows. Frank left the spotlight on, and I can watch it barrel down in sheets of snow out my window, blowing sideways, with a howl Bless all the cold ones trying to be warm tonight out there. Tomorrow, what will the groundhog do, but dig herself out?

Blue Ink Splotches