I’ve been called to the kitchen window today. It’s a large window with a view northwest toward the Pacific, into the mouth of winter storm creation. The first call was upon waking, then many more while cooking breakfast. Again while cooking lunch. More times throughout the day than I care to admit. I am restless. I know the clouds are moving quickly because the wind is tossing around the climbing rose arbor, shaking it to its roots, threatening to topple the entire structure and what I imagine following as the setting free of a thousand ruffled-edge flowers in a cloud of silken yellow confetti — poof.
Such a show would be stunning against the backdrop of this ominous sky. So many shades of grey, each one a pocket of guesses. It is undeniably spring.
Ah, here comes a surprise afternoon shower.
Listen: BICEP | GLUE
Much love to all.
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