In which I skip out on Instagram and Facebook for the month of March but still allow myself the internet.
The weekend is an orgy of relaxing and resetting, sorely needed by Khristian and myself. February is always hard, and this one seemed particularly difficult for both of us.
Saturday is filled with naps and a delicious frittata.
I spend a substantial amount of time Sunday morning reading The Book of Delights and petting the cat. This morning itself is a delight with its rainy dripping and water sounds in the gutters outside and my love sleeping softly and warmly next to me.
We have sprung forward, and I am glad of it. Another milestone, another sign that the literal and metaphorical darkness of winter is lifting.
I am unexpectedly glad at this day for no reason other than the sweet wet smell of rain and the purring hum of the cat and the warmth of Khristian next to me.
This morning, once we are ourselves lifted out of bed, we have fried eggs on toast with arugula (to complement without revisiting yesterday’s spectacular frittata with arugula, sweet peppers, and onions).
We wile the day again away, dreaming of our land in New Brunswick that we will visit next week, before we go to an unspectacular poetry reading. We go our separate ways after – me to yoga, Khristian to his studio – and meet a hawk in the parking lot where Khristian drops me off. I take the disappointing picture above but feel this wildness is a gift, another unexpected gladness, on a day just like any other day.