On Friday night, I fell asleep to Arctic winds howling outside, forcing the loose street sign underneath my window to squeak, mimicking the sound of an imagined Victorian ghost walking on creaking floorboards. I hadn’t checked the forecast, for it would be Saturday by the time the crashing, icy snow did its thing, and the smell of the weather had already told me it was going to be an “in” type of weekend.
Love this: "I have enjoyed every moment until just now, when I realized that even writing about the tempo of my weekend feels antagonizing to those who, by circumstance, have to venture out, hustle, rush, get stuck and unstuck, and miss the weather ballet outside."
Absolutely not just you. I felt this so very much. Thank you for your wonderful words transporting me to the snow, and the reflections that brought, too.
Love this: "I have enjoyed every moment until just now, when I realized that even writing about the tempo of my weekend feels antagonizing to those who, by circumstance, have to venture out, hustle, rush, get stuck and unstuck, and miss the weather ballet outside."
Absolutely not just you. I felt this so very much. Thank you for your wonderful words transporting me to the snow, and the reflections that brought, too.