So last week, it was in the 50s in Michigan. Blue skies, white clouds, birdsong. Nature is so cruel to us; you'd think that I would be used to it.
Last night we were dumped on. Michigan wasn't the only state to get the white stuff, and it reminded me that spring is NOT here, no matter what's going outside my windows.
What does this mean? I wrote last time how nature can be my muse (well, not in so many words, but you should've been able to infer that) and that I really enjoyed warmer weather days.
I would be lying if I said I didn't like how the earth looked after a snowfall. It's absolutely gorgeous. When the sun shines, it's like a million diamonds are covering my lawn.
Today, there is no sunshine or diamonds flickering. But there are trees covered in snow, their limbs holding mini-drifts like a postcard.
Even though we are in full winter-mode AGAIN, and my kids are home for Mid-Winter Break (note the name of the break!), I am feeling inspired. Last week I had an incredible massage and I swear that the guy lifted something dark and foreboding from me. I know, sounds weird, but I felt lighter than I have in a long time after that massage. I've gone back to my manuscript, determined to get another chunk down before I speak with my agent this week.
I better get back to it. Keep warm and thanks for stopping by.