Fell asleep last night to steadily falling rain - a rare and welcome sound. The electricity went out, then blinked on and off for a few hours - really, it was only rain, not a hurricane. There was no drama. Not even wind. Sometimes I do feel as if we live in another dimension. Like this is the parallel life we're all supposed to have but aren't aware of? How does one identify which life one is living? And is it snowing and hailing in May in another life? Because that's what we awakened to this morning. New snow on the mountains looked like confectioners sugar had been sprinkled over them by some New Mexican Zeus. For a brief time it looked like the sun was coming out and the scene was tranquil.
So I went outside, picked a bouquet of wet and cold lilacs for the table. Hope in my heart.
By the time I'd found a pitcher, taken them out to the deck for a picture, the wind had whipped up and it started to hail. The horses were
po'd and began nipping at each other.
This is the coldest, most changeable spring I can remember here. It's always unpredictable, sometimes lusty and lush, but this year is a test of faith. What will summer bring? Will summer come? It gets clearer in times like this, why primitive people who lived in so-called temperate zones made sacrifices to the gods to insure seasons of growth and abundance. Around here Persephone is trying to emerge, but keeps getting pulled back down by that nasty underworld guy.
forget your troubles, c'mon get happy
How? Knit happy. I even kept the label. Opal (of course), Wolle Schafpatenschaft (right), color: 2711. I've completed about 6 inches of the leg so far and the pattern hasn't repeated yet. The idea was to start this sock and then put it aside for traveling. Except that I really want to see what the full pattern looks like. I think the designers outdid themselves on this one.
hidden in May
scraps of the coming summer
still so hard to find
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