Almost the end of January --- whodathunkit? Where has it gone? I still have Nativity scenes strewn about the house, but Christmas feels like an event on a different planet. The daffodils are up, with actual buds here and there. The dogwoods and maples have buds swelling on every twig.
The days still aren't that noticeably much longer --- I'm ready for bed by seven o'clock, though I don't actually go to bed that early --- but the late afternoons have grown brighter, and I'm surprised when five o-clock comes around, because there's light in the sky.
I'm up relatively early (I'm the first creature stirring in this house, anyway), drinking coffee and doing this and that. I read back over the sapphics poem, made a few tiny changes, and sent it to a metrical-poetry competition, where maybe seven pages of sapphics will stand out in a field of sonnets. I mean, seven pages of sapphics could stand out in a bad way as well as a good way, but in any event, I took a lot of care over the meter in this enormous poem, so I thought: WHY NOT?
Tied off the week's copy-editing before dinner last night. This morning I got back the editor's notes, which are mostly in line with mine, which is good. I'm getting better at this game!
Not much on today, which is nice. I have laundry to fold, an email or two hanging over me waiting for answers, but not much else. Tomorrow after church we've agreed that we want to go up to Blowing Rock to knock around: drive on the Parkway, probably, since it's still so cold, rather than trying to hike, then have dinner someplace. So that's something nice to look forward to, a little change from our ordinary surroundings and mojo. Not, mind you, that every night isn't date night when it's just the two of you. I think this is something I probably took entirely for granted before we had children, but now I don't. Any plain little dinner --- last night we had scrambled eggs and peas --- becomes an intimate occasion, with candlelight and a tablecloth, even if it's the same cloth that's been on the table all week, even when you're just in the kitchen. We like to sit on stools at the kitchen island to have our drinks (my "dry" drinks, his non-dry drinks), because it feels like sitting at the bar. I have this irrational love of sitting at the bar, and especially of eating dinner at the bar, rather than at a table. Somehow, even though it's less private, it feels more intimate and cozy to me. Again, this is irrational. But it's one of my favorite things to do. We haven't yet eaten dinner at our little "bar," but we might. I might just make that happen. In the meantime, we at least have our drinks and nibbles in the kitchen lamplight, and it's fun.
A long phone conversation yesterday afternoon with my older daughter, who was on her way to buy some sleeping bags she had found on Facebook Marketplace, because she and her husband and two of his sisters were going to drive out to a state park to camp overnight and watch for a comet that's supposed to be visible right now. I have not been following the astronomical news and had no idea that there's a comet supposed to be visible right now: the things you learn. They are always doing things like this --- these intensely interesting, engaged things --- and it's fun to be adjacent to this life, although I'm not sure I would have the energy for it anymore. At any rate, I hope it wasn't too cold, and I hope they saw the comet, because that would be cool.
The older son has returned to Montana, apparently. He's been promoted to some kind of "permanent seasonal" position, which means that he still doesn't get paid in the winter, but that next winter he won't lose his health benefits (good, because he'll be 26 next November and off our insurance), and this spring his work season will start about a month earlier than last year. The younger set, meanwhile, have gone to Subiaco and Assisi this weekend, per the younger son, who said he had taken lots of pictures and would share as soon as he got back to his laptop.
So lots going on, but not here. Here we are just watching the buds swell on the trees, and that's enough. I'm also reading, this morning, this fascinating conversation about poetry and theology, between Rowan Williams and Shane McRae, moderated by James K.A. Smith. Worth the time, if you have a minute.
Otherwise, I have gotten dressed today. I'm repeating a favorite warm and comfortable outfit (with wet hair):
Wool& Sierra + Icebreaker base-layer long-sleeved tee + thrifted bamboo leggings + Boody bamboo socks (barely visible, but they're a lovely gray-blue) + Tari boots. What I like about this outfit is the muted-ness of all the colors and how they blend together softly --- as well as how warm and utterly comfortable it is.
I put on my puffer jacket to go outside with Dora --- we didn't walk this morning for a change, but I put her on her tether in the yard, scatter-fed her her breakfast, then threw the ball for her to chase and let her sniff all around the yard, for a different kind of exercise experience. Now, having buffalo-stampeded around the house, upstairs and down, once or twice, she's curled up in the chair with me.
Again, not much on today. I want to read my Bible and Imitation of Christ readings, in addition to finishing this Image interview I linked above, plus some more Nicholas Nickleby. I can't believe I ever had trouble getting into this novel --- though really, it does start kind of slowly, and you have to wait to get to the actual protagonist and his adventures, but then isn't that the way with Dickens? You have to wade through Jarndyce & Jarndyce pretty much every time, or at least some whole business about being born with a caul that later gets auctioned off.
Dora and I might take an actual walk later on. And I must stop putting off dealing with some laundry I've left sitting in the dryer --- the very thing I become homicidal about when other people do it.
So . . . maybe I'll get up out this chair and do something about that. But I'll leave you with Dora on her tether in the sun.
ETA: My younger son is texting me as he's walking through Assisi, marveling. He says it's his favorite place yet.
ALSO:
Today's good mail. No, it's not the pretty dress I'm itching to put on, but it is some supersubstantial clothing for the mind.
Also, my wool-year Instagram account seems to have vanished. I'm wondering whether I inadvertently deleted it, or what. I was sort of regretting having made it, and I might just carry on here in obscurity from here on out, though in fact, YES, I am challenging myself to wear wool, at least, if not actually Wool& wool, for 365 straight days.