“The bees are flying. They taste the spring.”

The title of this post is the last line in Sylvia Plath’s poem “Wintering.” It’s a rather dark poem, but the last line for me is always hopeful and optimistic — though, of course, it’s shadowed by Plath’s own biography and tragic end. Still, let’s go with it. After a rather long, dark, dismal wintering, the hive of life is coming back to life. Around here the snow has finally melted in my driveway, and I can see…dirty concrete! After months of pure snow and ice, I’ll take what I can get. I finally got to drag out my pots

Winter Sunshine

Lately I find it hard to wake up. My dreams are dense, deeply felt and vivid — I’ve been doing a little yoga before I sleep at night, just little videos I find on YouTube (LOVE YOU TARA STILES) and doing shoulderstands and plow poses to stretch out my neck and upper back. I haven’t done yoga on the regular since I lived in San Francisco, but working out those knots and kinks is really firing the synapses. They must be firing in my brain something fierce, because I wake up from my dreams feeling like I’ve lived a whole

Sometimes Words Kind of Fail

Well, guys, so much for having a gentle, easy, peaceful year where I can savor and ever-so-thoughtfully and mindfully take in my experiences. I’ve drafted about five different entries to post in the past week and a half…and none of them quite work. They don’t speak to the truth of what’s going on in my life now, which is really just so much tumult. Work tumult, love tumult, health tumult: please, gods and spirits above, just keep my family out of it and I’ll be a grateful creature. So I’ll just stick to minutiae now. I’ve taken to working at

All the Winter Ponies

I was recently lamenting to a friend that I hadn’t gone horseback riding in two weeks because of the weather, and she was surprised. “You’re still riding, when it’s all cold and snowing all the time?” she asked. As if a little cold and snow would stop me! But lots and lots of snow, along with subzero temps…well, there’s dedication and then there’s dangerous, I suppose. Still, it’s not easy. Forget the long rides of the summer — within an hour my toes are frozen and I can’t feel my hands, no matter how many gloves or socks I wear.