Sunday, February 21, 2021

I had some odd dreams last night about being back in the Harmony house; also, about feeding my horse. (I have never owned a horse.) Unlike most of my livestock dreams, this one did not involve forgetting that I owned livestock/forgetting to feed them for months/having no water to give them. Instead, I seemed to be doing a twice-daily chore, with a cheerful (if funny-looking) horse, in a strange but familiar barn, without anxiety or self-horror. So that was a nice change.

I'm feeling slightly under the weather: tired eyes, a bit stiff and achy . . . no big deal, and probably a combination of too much reading, allergies, my exercise class, and a bad mattress. But it was pleasant to have a rare take-out night for dinner--a barbecue feast from Salvage. It was pleasant to put on my pajamas at 4 p.m. And it was pleasant to sit by the fire and play cards with the boys.

I don't know what's up for today. Some sort of housework, I suppose. We have tuna steaks in the refrigerator, and Tom and I are slightly serious about snow-grilling them in the fire pit. We'll see how serious we stay when dinnertime comes around.

I'm reading a dull Trollope novel (Lady Anna) and wishing for something more scintillating. I'm imagining skating at night, under the streetlights, at Deering Oaks Pond. I'm letting my mind wander away from poems and planning and curriculum. I'm propped in a corner of my shabby couch, the only person awake in the house, and feeling the weight of winter slip forward toward spring, like ice sliding off a roof.


nancy said...

I am loving George Saunders' new book "A Swim in the Pond in the Rain." Although much of it is focused on the process of writing and reading short stories, many aspects apply to poetry as well, I would think.

David (n of 49) said...

'...feeling the weight of winter slip forward toward spring, like ice sliding off a roof.' - ahhh.