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FLASH UPON THAT INWARD EYE
I don't like beech trees hedges at any other time of year than spring. The dried copper-colored leaves shake in the wind; rattling like great skirts of beetle carcasses, husks clacking together. Though the sun shone today high in a pinked sky and made me happy by still being up past 5 o'clock when I finally left work, it wasn't enough to shake my mood. Not even roses waiting for me on the table with the smiles of my family and shouts of "Happy Valentine's Day!" have worked long enough to shake this mood loose completely.

This mood that has wrapped around my head like a smothering turban. It's a mood that lifts once in a while like a nosy neighbor's curtain, then drops again when it thinks I've turned my attention toward it. I wish I knew where it came from and how long it is planning to stay and whether or not it knows it's not really welcome, though I've been polite enough not to throw it out yet, though it's long past the verge of overstaying, regardless.

Late-winter blahs, the indulgence of a good wallow in whatever this is; not self-pity, not really lethargy since there is plenty of energy when needed. A certain small sense of sameness, that's all. Nothing a few crocus buds and early daffodills wouldn't cure, I'm sure.
 blah
mood: blah
music: Bic Runga—Precious Things


Comments

I don't like beech trees at any other time of year than spring.

Blasphemy!

The leaves are like carmel colored thimbles with which frost is thread. They crackle and catch the sunlight, reflecting it with a wintery brightness improbable in any other season. Beech leaves are not fair weathered, but perennial. Reminding us of the form of summer, when we most need to be reminded. The buds are sleek and seal bodied. Full of promise and covered in gold.

LOL! Somehow, while writing this, I knew if anyone reacted, it would be you! :P There's not a lot of frost here, sadly...it's either wet or ...wet.

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I can complain because rose bushes have thorns or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.

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