february has been a small month of small sentences and thoughts.
i manage to write a line or two each day.
from the first day: it has just turned february, the month when the days can’t decide what to do. an in betweener for us – a fire lit this morning, not needed by the weekend. a week later: the sky goes lavender on its way to dark. a week into february with open doors and a small fire in the heater. a week after that, i squoosh a few days into this: monday: the wind is singing a chilly song of february, slinging small stones and twigs and bits of leaves against the doors and windows. the glass creaks in protest and surrender, the cat twitches in her sleep, dreams disturbed almost to waking. the morning birds are silent. thursday: we are warm. flipflops, heaters off, windows open. the night sky clear. jingle bell cat a white presence in the darkness. i can’t sleep and can’t read.
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