miller's crossing

I've returned from my winter hiatus. There was snow. Lots of it. Enough to have me thinking about the nature of obstacles and my attitude towards them.

Transition to grey....

Those fall colors were nice. Now the rain will nudge the leaves to the ground and soggy piles will molder. Unlike Wisconsin, there is no looking forward to crisp winter mornings blanketed in fresh snow. There is only an increasing greying -- and greening -- of the palette to enjoy.

School's been keeping me busy. The autumn colors are amazing this week. I've posted a few photos on Flickr. I intend to post something new here soon, but I've also got two mid-terms to write this weekend.

In the soggy October night, I set out to fix a flat on my bike. Waiting for the glue to cure, I put on a Midnight Oil LP and poured a glass of red wine. Before I'd had my first sip, I noticed the subtle smell of old boyfriend nostalgia. The David Bowie I was singing earlier in the day should've been an early tip off to what was to come. Then, there was an email from the last guy that I read after work. ("...

A thin coating of ice had formed on Lake Monona this morning when I rode by. Still no fisherman on Monona Bay -- yet. I feel lucky to have such a lovely bike ride to work.

With the warmest year on record behind us, we can now comfortably relax into winter. No worries. It snowed. It's cold. We're fine, right?

I just heard the rumble of a passing snow plow. For my romantic mind, nothing says "stay inside and snuggle" more convincingly. So tonight, I blah-blah-blog with my warm laptop.

Wet. Wet. Wet.

Bam! ... If it isn't the end of summer....

Cold rain.

Blah....

It was a duck's delight today after the heavens opened and poured gallons of rain on to the isthmus. Suddenly, there were a few more lakes in Madison. So much water, so little time. Go ducks, you brave feathery denizens of Madison's lakes, lawns and streets.

The ground is thawed. The squirrels are busy. It's time to think about planting. As I've grown older, I've come to appreciate the spring time more and more. With any luck, this will be my sixth spring to watch the backyard turn from brown, muddy patch to vibrant, green jungle. I am truly awed by and grateful for the change each year.

Seasonal change is so fundamental to life in the upper midwest. You would think it would feel more ordinary and predictable. Yet no one I know could deny how deeply they are effected by the transition from cold to warm.

I drempt about prowling last night. A sign my mind and body are stretching towards balmy nights, unfettered by hats and gloves and the cold north wind.

Not many words for posting just now. Painted today. Got somewhere.

There's been thunder the past couple nights and rain. One night this past week, I got soaked, riding home in a down pour. It's still too cold to take any delight in sloshed socks and drippy pant legs. ... The thunder feels odd. Not sure why.