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March 12, 2005

the March wind doth blow

It is late afternoon on a quintessential March day: scudding clouds gray and white; the trees and the grass and everything else, it seems, brown; warm enough to be chilly, but not chilly enough to be outright cold; windy.

Last night when I went to bed I listened to the wind knock the fir's branches against the house. It was late (well, late for me: midnight) and I stayed awake for a long time listening to the needles stroke the bedroom window.

Today was like all my other Saturdays: chocolate-chip pancakes and the gym and errands and laundry and more errands, interspersed with her haircut and his lacrosse practice, and that's how the day has passed. And your phone call, Mr. Weather Is Here, from San Diego: Did I delete your latest blog entry? It has disappeared. No, I didn't. But I love you, too.

And I guess that's about enough of that. A. says that I want to have you back and not pay attention to the reality of who you are. True enough. Once upon a time,

Posted by JudyLa at 04:49 PM | Comments (0)