Brrrrrrrrr . . .

I had to break out the winter coat this morning, and walked to the train with my hands jammed into my pockets, breath steaming in the air. I'm buying a small space heater today for Sebastian, whose ears were cold last night in my frigid room. It's October 4th, and already the nighttime temperatures are into the 30's.

I don't think I can express strongly enough how happy I am that this is my last winter in Chicago. I have always hated the cold and snow, and though I will miss white Christmases, I won't miss them that much. Bring on green trees in December. T- three months to go.

Uninvited . . .

I have always been an unabashed enthusiast when it comes to Mother Nature's wrath: I like thunderstorms and rain, I love it when the sky gets dark enough to turn the streetlights on in the daytime, and the trees whip around in the wind. But, I have been on the wrong side of that wrath too, so I've learned to respect it. I've never been as frightened as I was my first year in college, when NOLA was threatened by Hurricane Georges seven years before Katrina would practically destroy the city. Weather is fun to watch from the safety of your home, when there's no danger in it. No so much when you could lose that home because of it.

To those of you readers battening down the hatches, waiting for Hurricane Earl, or worse, facing evacuation, my thoughts are with you.

Grey Day with Silver Lining. . .

The weather today matches my mood of late: gloomy, changeable, negative. I woke up in a funk, ready to snap off heads and certain that nothing would go right today. Then, I log onto Facebook, of all things, and amid friends griping about the stormy weather, I see this status update:

There are so many things to be grateful for today, even the grey.

What are you grateful for today, dear readers?

Snow in April . . .

I hate snow.
For as long as I can remember, Chicago in Spring has been the most unpredictable season of any, showing a daring ankle with 65-degree weather in March and then shocking us with 30-degree weather in April. I remember in my childhood a snowstorm at the end of May. When I move to SoCal in 2011, I'm never crossing the Mississippi again.
Still, there is a kind of strange beauty in the juxtaposition of ice crystals over tender green buds just peeking out of branches; a rime of frost on new tulips and crocuses. Spring, for its very changeability and unpredictability, has been the favorite topic of poets and painters for centuries. In spite of the shock of snow boots in April, I still say that Spring is my favorite season.
All the same, I can't wait for the move;)

If there were fragrance
these heavy snowflakes settling . . .
Lilies on the rocks

-Basho