Posted by Shannon | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, February 03, 2010
The Christmas luster is long past and the winter cold seems to soak deep into the fibers of everything.
The things that normally are a pleasure take an extra measure of devotion these days when the blood feels like used oil running through the veins.
Clouds hang overhead as a constant reminder of the calendar and journey that must be logged before the short days grow longer and the joys of spring drag away the winter blues one more time.
To the groundhogs around the country that predicted more winter I hate you. How cruel of you to predict more winter based on the infrequent sunny day (or morning) in the three months of winter. Shouldn't it be the opposite? Shouldn't the groundhog want to share a warm sunny moment outdoors if arising that morning and finding his shadow? I know when I awake to gloomy skies it makes me long for the comfort of my warm blankets and soft bed.
Just another quandary among quandaries that go unanswered.
Here's to staying warm and the hope that Phil was wrong.
-- Post From My iPhone
The things that normally are a pleasure take an extra measure of devotion these days when the blood feels like used oil running through the veins.
Clouds hang overhead as a constant reminder of the calendar and journey that must be logged before the short days grow longer and the joys of spring drag away the winter blues one more time.
To the groundhogs around the country that predicted more winter I hate you. How cruel of you to predict more winter based on the infrequent sunny day (or morning) in the three months of winter. Shouldn't it be the opposite? Shouldn't the groundhog want to share a warm sunny moment outdoors if arising that morning and finding his shadow? I know when I awake to gloomy skies it makes me long for the comfort of my warm blankets and soft bed.
Just another quandary among quandaries that go unanswered.
Here's to staying warm and the hope that Phil was wrong.
-- Post From My iPhone
