MORNING MEDITATION: Nonexistent in the formal sense. (I’m worse than Bridget Jones with her pounds lost/gained and her cigarettes.
TDC: Today’s Daily Cure is an image that has stuck in my head since I last wrote. It’s winter here, and it’s been cold and dry. Mud is frozen. Grass is as short and compact as a berber carpet. The air crackles. It feels clean. When I walk in the park each morning, I’m struck by the work that’s been done pruning and neatening, making the garden winter-ready. It’s an image I relate to. Editing back, while—inside, under, beneath, hidden from view—strength gathers for a springing forward at the right moment. We speak of the dead of winter, but it’s not dead at all. It’s just watching and waiting.