It's a joke. This morning it's 10 degrees--again. All flowerbeds are still covered by two feet of snow that is so crusty with ice, snowshoes barely leave a track on top.
I'm starting to admire the topography of the snow, which is no longer smooth, but sculpted into hills and valleys as it melts from below. My yard looks like a relief map.
In other words, i'm desperate. The hyacinths have finished blooming; my forced tulips have not yet begun. I've given every houseplant a haircut, and i have 25 jars of cuttings sitting on a window sill.
I would go into hibernation if i could, but the sun heats our passive solar house up to tropical by 11 a.m. It's time to wake up and move. Squirrels scamper across the snow and devour the bird seed. New birds, more birds are showing up at the bird feeders--purple finches, flickers.
Restlessness. One of the 5 hindrances to our meditation and to our life.
The earth is moving. The birds are moving. The snow is moving.
And so am i.
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