it hasn't gotten any warmer today. it has only gotten colder. tighter. my fingers are slow. the heater must not be turned up high enough. i can move this little finger to raise the little lever on the thermostat and make it all better, make it all go away. at least here. at least here. for me. the wind kicked the sickly yellow pollen down from the big tall pines. it's everywhere and rushing up my nose and eyes when i step outside. no more stepping outside. winter. i have plenty of yarn and can make myself a scarf, a sweater, gloves, a woolly hat, and snugly thick socks. too thick for shoes. my toes are moving slower than my fingers. i'm thankful for my many quilts. i'm going to go get under them and stay under them. i have hot chocolate too. and good books. and a need to just sit in one place. one place where it's warm. one place where i am the only determining factor. one place where the slowness in my fingers will either dissolve or won't matter.
cold.
winter is signaling.
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