far too much writing, far too many photos

[continued from previous entry]

Meanwhile, the sweet mild days that drifted through this part of the world in recent weeks have given way to more winterlike fare — gray, cold, raw. Heavy rain for two, three days, shifting to quiet, ethereal flurries. Recently arrived warm season birds carry on unfazed, setting a stoic example for someone like me (jonesing for sunshine and higher temperatures).

E. — she who is buying the house — has been bringing inspectors through these last couple of days. I leave for town, super-handy individuals race into the house, poke around for a while, disappear before my return. Kind of strange. But given that it’s all for the benefit of a lovely peson, it’s okay.

I’m hearing the word ’spring’ in conversations quite a bit in recent days. I hear ’spring,’ I look outside, what I see often does not compute. Until I remember what January/February was like and I remind myself it’s all relative. Compared to hellishly cold temperatures and getting pelted with snow, snow and more snow, the current conditions are a joy. Now and then sun pokes through, the air immediately warms enough to allow sitting on the stoop. Songbirds make springtime music. Daylight now extends well into the evening. This is all good.

And I continue gearing up for the big coming change. Giving away stuff (books, clothes, a queen-sized futon bed). Hanging doors. Clambering up onto the roof, caulking chimney flashing. Going back and forth by email re: a possible summer sublet in Cambridge, Mass. (where I would pull myself together, as far as such a thing is possible, while wrapping my teeny brain around concocting my next likely step) (that next likely step, btw? dumping most of my remaining possessions into storage, maybe. heading back to Madrid, trying to get serious about putting down roots. maybe.)

Tomorrow a truck will pull up the driveway, and a stalwart individual will empty out the house’s septic tank. Yee-ha!

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Sunrise, early April, Vermont:

EspaƱa, te echo de menos

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