Homemade stew is simmering while I am starting a painting and listening to favorite music station.
I have learned a bit more about Vivaldi.
Who knew he wrote operas?
Probably everybody else on the planet.
I am brazenly copying from an artist whose work I admire, Linda Jacobus, as the season’s first snow falls.
Doug and have enjoyed a walk — and later, shoveling out, only to have a neighbor do the heavy work with a magic snow blower.
My eyes see beauty, as my ears hear complexity . . . sheltered from the cold.
And once a upon a time I thought riches were only for the wealthy.
There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you…. In spring, summer and fall people sort of have an open season on each other; only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself. ~ Ruth Stout
But, I don’t want to make a habit of this. Being snowed in is a delight the first time in the season. I am glad for the rest, and time to create. The next time I am snowed in, I might not be so mellow.Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2019 Barbara Smith