This is the time of year I wonder how anyone can live here--it's cold, gray and there is only a dusting of dirty snow to cover the trash that has blown up against the fences and bushes. My daughter lives in the perpetual sunshine of L.A., near the ocean--but as she points out--since it is always there, you rarely decide to go swimming--you can always go another day.
I think this is how being young felt...there was always another day--another month--another year. The sense of urgency just wasn't there. We'll go to Greece one day--I'll get an MFA. We'll build our own house--visit Singapore, rent a small farm in Italy for the summer.
So, Detroit winters are a great time to get out the world atlas, the travel brochures, collect house plans from the Internet, read the seed catalogs. Forced indoors, we are also forced a bit inside ourselves. This isn't the worst thing that can happen--The worst thing is have no plans ready for when those brown sticks start to bud and that mud begins to sprout green.
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Yes, this time of year I ask myself, "why did I ever leave California?"
At the barbershop today, conversation rampant about how unseasonably warm it is here in Southern Illinois this winter. (The pansies are starting to bloom, it seems unnatural. There's no doubt that it's winter because all we have is brown sticks and mud, too.) Today's 70ยบ temperatures a bit creepy, kind of canary-in-the-coalmine scary.
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