Tuesday, March 12

itty bitty boom


I know how it goes. These soft gray days. Mud and the sense that those bits of buds starting to appear couldn't possibly ever come to anything much.   And then?  itty bitty BOOM.  Spring is on.

Sure, I've seen my first robin, the tips of daffodills and the fragile patches of white snowdrops and violet crocuses -- there's even a flame of forsythia banking the side of the driveway into this building.

And still, I'm not convinced.  It's bleak.  Kinda chill.  The overall feel is like looking into a sink where a white bowl with traces of the morning's gray oatmeal sits waiting to be washed.

Yeah, you can thank me later for that little vision of loveliness.


The fact is, there is so much to enjoy and I do love to saturate myself in tactile pleasures-- but I am also rather enjoying being a pissant and reveling in some seasonal moodiness.

Sometimes-- it just feels good to be moody. (Not for anyone around me, obvs, but I rather like a bout of deep nothingness at the center of my reflections. Does the heart good)

The dogs-- ever my mirrors -- are also in a unusually quiet energy. They got all their shots yesterday and I think they are feeling a bit peaked. When I took them to the farm this morning they jumped down from the back with less of a hop and frolic and more of a schlump and meander.

Gray.  Soft.  Misty.

I rather like it for the very reason I know it can't stay like this. No doubt sunshine and pink blossoms are in my near future-- high energy and late night bike rides through a city balmy with Spring.

But for now?

Oatmeal and hot coffee. Sticky buns with pecans.  Gathering up an armful of books and crawling into bed and pretending to be surprised when you set the books onto the floor so that you can sink into a late afternoon nap.

bisous, e


  1. It's been grey here for weeks and I'm heartily sick of it. I want sunshine. I need sunshine. I CRAVE sunshine.

    One day, perhaps...

  2. i rather like this idea of sinking into the greyness and moodiness for the very reason that we know it won't /can't last.
    sink in and enjoy the grey, the mist, the warm coffee and oatmeal. spring and all her glory will be here soon, and we will still sink in and enjoy coffee and sticky buns...just with a renewed energy.

  3. I SO wish I could sink and nap and escape! It sounds heavenly. xoxo

  4. I am feeling you, honey.
    Sinking into here too.
    Take care.

  5. Love this E! I would swear you were spying on me this last weekend...I did exactly what you said. Unplugged and curled up with a stack of books for two whole days!! I can highly recommend it. It was blissFULL. And I may or may not have also dropped the books to the floor at one point and napped with the menagerie ;) xo Kelly H.

  6. i love the moody pissant way that you so clearly express the feelings that many of us (most, perhaps??) struggle with! your lovely photos give hope that spring bloomburst is just around the corner!

  7. :) Well, I join you in a moody pissant day!! My neighbor likes to listen to loud movies at all hours of the night, so I was up till 4 in the morning...sigh.. So, I've been running my vacuum on and off for the last few hours. I really need to clean every crevice, ya know? This has been going on since she moved in in August and well, I've had it. I'm even going to encourage my dog to sing a little bit soon. :) I'll be crawling in to bed with some books after a bath this evening and hopeful she got my message loud and clear. Here's to moody days!! xo

  8. you are such a beautiful writer, elizabeth. and btw, that bowl of oatmeal is in my sink right now (not metaphorically). xoxo


thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me-- I love that you stopped by and hope something I shared was what you needed today. xo, e