I’m in a bit of a winter stupor. We’ve had a colder, wetter season than any I can recall since 1989 when I moved to LA. Otto and Iris and I have been staring out the window a lot.
I’ve been visiting Santa Barbara county beaches every chance I get and walking beside the early morning shore.
In the classroom we made repeat patterns using stencils. Everyone had slightly different ideas about colors and patterns. They look like spring to me!
Despite the dreary winter days in early March, I tried to get out in all weather and move more. The view of snow on the mountains is worth the climb up to see it. I’ll never break any land speed records, but decluttering the mind occurs whether I’m walking fast or slow.
All of these photos and words have been sitting in my DRAFTS box waiting for me to finish this post, but I’ve been distracted by life.
I had the urge to make some envelopes from different papers. I sat at the window desk during one of the many atmospheric rivers delivering water via the great current in the sky. Folding, gluing, tracing, cutting, watching the rain slide down the window panes.
We’re all ready for the windows to be flung open. It’s been unseasonably cool for months.
but we’re hanging in there.
I wrote that a few weeks ago in the middle of a deluge of rain. But with no rain in the forecast and temperatures that have finally climbed above 60 we Californians are thawing out. We’re tentatively sitting outside and getting back to our old tricks of outdoor living. Pulling our heads out from under our shells and sniffing the air.
The extra cool weather and all the rain is no great hardship in the great scheme of things. Moss Cottage hasn’t sprung any leaks, my trees haven’t fallen, and the electricity only went out once all winter.
The air smells good. Like flowers and grass – the kind that grows on hillsides and in yards.
Sprink Break just started, the sun is shining, and I spent today on the back patio with a friend. Sketchbookery is very very good in person.
If there are any homo sapiens on the other end of this digital postcard let me hear from you. It’s always good to know I’m not clickety-clacking into the void. Plus you might want to let me know your spring plans. Where on the great seas you’ve been paddling your little boat. Do you still have both oars? Has anyone fallen overboard? Are you happy? Can you see my smoke signals?
Let me know.