-23 and the flower buckets closest to the studio door had ice in them. Some of the dark pink roses and pale pink tulips had died from the cold. Folded over at the top, hanging from fragile stems. Strong and hardy, to a point.
I brought a big round ceramic planter to the greenhouse, thinking I would plant it full of spring bulbs. Made a pile of bulbs on the counter: hyacinths, narcissus, muscari. But the potting soil was frozen solid and had to be put inside to thaw overnight. Growth on hold a little longer.
The sunlight slanted through the rooms. Even the simple house plants make an aura of extravagance when the sun casts their shadows onto the walls. Out walking, I peered into the woods, looking for some sign or clue in the areas of light and shadow on the snow-covered trees. They were silent, they were themselves. They offered nothing and they offered everything. What kind of clue do you want? What kind of sign do you need?
The marsh was frozen over. Areas of smoothness and areas of roughness. I threw some pebbles across it to listen to them slide. Frozen is different than flowing. Winter is different than summer. Now is different than then.
The window in the bathroom steamed up when I took a bath. I watched and watched the evergreens outside through the blur of glass. Even a blurry evergreen steadies and strengthens. Even a blurry image of alive and alive and kicking gives your shaky heart water and food. I’ll watch and watch, as repairs are made and channels clear.