Friday, April 07, 2006

Caught between seasons

I'd like to say that I got up early this morning--but I didn't. I got up at 8:30, after laying in bed for an hour thinking about how rested I felt (which I did--at least until I actually got up). The sun is coming in wildly through the kitchen window, but here, where I write, there is no sun--just the shade of an old pine tree.

I've been tired lately--no, exhausted. Maybe because of the time change, maybe because of the change of weather. My head, for too many days, has been connected to my neck and then my shoulders, with nothing going on inside--just an irritating hum-noneness.

But today I'm going to walk the 5 blocks to my studio and hunker down in my newly decluttered space and write. I feel the need for sunlight and 12 foot ceilings and white walls with random splashes of paint.

This morning, while walking wolfie in the same direction, I was caught off guard by the turning of seasons. It was cold, with a biting wind. But it was sunny, too. Water sparkled along the edge of the lake--a good 10 feet of summer light glinting until interrupted by the line of ice that still covers the rest of the lake. Red Wing blackbirds followed us on our route shouting: summer's coming! summer's coming! In Northern Minnesota, it is a slow transition--those blackbirds are so full of faith.

We detoured down the old stone steps that lead down to the water, but were both surprised by the dirty mountain of snow half way down. We weren't looking at our path ahead--just the sun and water beyond. So we slid, the rest of the way, down, down, down the icy hill. Me, looking like "The Crazy Lady," in my flip-flops, baseball cap, capri pants, and winter jacket. I hung on to the bare branches of shrubs with one hand and the leash, connected to an excited dog, in the other. I'm lucky I didn't break an ankle or my over-worked head (although the latter, at this point, might have felt good).

At the bottom, we were momentarily protected from the from life and thoughts. I felt energy return to my bones in the cool, but sun-warmed morning air.


I need to finish school. God, I need to finish. I'm in limbo--like the seasons. Too much dirty snow. I need to finish. But this is enough gibbering. It's time to get to work.

I hope spring will wait for me just a little longer.


Jana B said...

I love how you describe your walk... I could picture myself just walking with you and seeing what you saw.

I love that feeling I get when I read a blog and feel like I'm there with the writer! Thanks!

Amber said...

I've been incredibly tired this week, too, even though--for the first time in a long time--I've been getting about eight hours of sleep every night. In fact, I was just sitting here at the computer, feeling nebulous, wishing I had coffee. (Yes, coffee! I haven't had a cup of coffee in literally months.) I'm glad I'm not the only one who feels this way. Maybe it means I'm not broken. (Or maybe it just means we can be broken together.)

Natasjia said...

Same here -- the tired, dragging, I-need-to-take-a-nap-but-can't-fall-asleep-ness.

gkgirl said...

i loved how you described yourself
and know that so often
i am looking the same way

hope spring finds you soon
and refreshs you

Loralee Choate said...

Everyone seems to be TIRED.

The segment about your walk and faitful bluejays almost inspired me to take a walk...we'll see.


Dana said...

I love your description of the birds, too, their being full of faith. That's a wonderful way to think of them.

Joy Eliz said...

I am so jealous! Not that you're tired because I am too but because you actually got yourself out and walking. I want to walk but always come up with an excuse not to:(