Ink Smears

Ink smears, as thoughts sometimes do. -Emme Woodhull-Bäche

Since my posts have been either heavy or whiny (or both) lately, I thought I'd try something else for a change. My thoughts are random and often smear together (I really love that quote) into something that makes sense only to me, but I guess if you're reading this you know that already and don't mind translating it out for yourself. So here are some ramblings about the crazy weather and a poem I wrote a few weeks back.

Yes, I love summer and hate that it is gone for the year and that soon the stupid Ohio cold will take over for the next six months. But I'm trying to look on the bright side. I do love coming home from work and having a warm fire blazing in the fire place as the boys race up and scream "Mommy's home!" and give me hugs and kisses. I always love that welcome, but something about the warmth of the fire makes it even more welcoming. I do love the holidays. I love Thanksgiving and Christmas and family traditions. I love nights snuggled on the couch watching movies or reading a book and not feeling the least bit guilty that I didn't get outside and do something... since the weather was too terrible to get out in. As much as it pains at me to admit it, there are a few things I.... don't hate about winter. I'm going to try to remember those things in the coming months.

Here is my poem. I was thinking I would have plenty of "Fall" time left to post it, but we kind of went from the coolest Summer on record straight to late fall/early winter. Since we are now in the middle of three semi-fall days, I'll post it now.

I can feel Fall creeping in,
but I still have the window open.
If only shutting it could stave off
the impending autumn.
Sitting here,
listening to the crickets
and frogs
and clinging
to the last
remnants of Summer.
I feel the passage
of time more strongly
as the life that
overflows in Summer
fades and floats away
in the brisk wind.