I am angry at Spring this year. I'm not ready. I'm not interested in the burgeoning, birthing, breakout time. I want more snow and cold and hibernation. I'm not really eager, enthusiastic or particularly happy that it's that time of year again. The intensity of my Spring irritation does come and go. There certainly are moments, with the snow up to my knees, that I have a fleeting image of grass and flip flops. My mind, however, immediately goes to 90+ degree humidity and weeds and mosquitoes. Oh Joy...
I'm just going on the record here. While everyone sings the praises of Spring and can't seem to keep their clothes on... I'm wistful and living in appreciation of snow and bundling up and cozy fires. By the time Spring actually arrives I'm sure I'll be on board with it (what choice do I have)... but in the mean time I'm loving any pre-spring-like, deep winter fling that comes my way.
What shall I forgive this day to amuse and delight?
I decided back in November 2015 to make my poetry available and journal online. I'm not exactly sure what "blogging" means but I am quite sure this is an online journal. Feel free to read on with an aire of open minded curiosity. At no time do I intend to offend, judge or pretend to know anything really, I'm just an observer and explorer, as we all are. Feel free to "boldly go" through my observations and perhaps it will spark or inspire. Comments are off because I don't want to be worried about political correctness when I'm writing. I'm not thinking about "you." I'm just writing because it feels "right". Feel free to enjoy or surf on.
Fibber McGee's closet!