These are some of the hardest days for me. These weeks when, although the days are supposedly getting longer, I feel like the sun is never far enough over the horizon and my bones are in a constant state of chill.
To combat the dark I am on a constant search for pinpricks of light — a sprig of green, a sunny song, a hopeful laugh.
Here's a little roundup of some things I recently discovered.
BOOKS ~ This site — bookcrossing.com — where you can send your books out into the universe and track their journey. A version of the elementary school "Flat Stanley" project . . . . for grown-ups! (Thanks to Danni of Silo Hill Farm for telling me about the site.)
TV ~ This list of feel-good documentaries from PBS.
SOMETHING PRETTY ~ This dress from Mod Cloth. I don't wear dresses often, but this one is divine. Maybe I should plan a fancy Valentine's day dinner and get this dress for the occasion? Except, dang, one of my words for the year is "simplify." Buying a semi-pointless dress doesn't really work into that plan.
READING ~ This book. I'd never read it and decided it was high time.
ART ~ This french artist's blog and artwork. And this one too. There are so many talented people in the world, aren't there?
MUSIC ~ This documentary on Tom Petty. (Again with the talent.)
HOOKY ~ For all the crochet-crazed out there — this free baby bootie pattern. I think I know what I'll be working on next!
And finally POETRY. This poem:
Wishing you a happy week.Winter-Time
Robert Louis Stevenson (from A Child’s Garden of Verses, 1885)
Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.
Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.
Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.
When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.
Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding-cake.
|Oh - and don't forget to put your name in for a book drawing. I'll pick names on Wednesday (see previous post).