I knew that spring was close, that nothing could hold it back.
It's the first time in a long time that I was able to remain on the porch
reading, even in the poor light, long after the sun had set behind the hills
behind the house.
I nuzzled into the couch, pulled the book nearer and sipped on my wine.
Satisfaction.
And a sense of new beginnings, which is what August's 'eight' is symbolic
of.
Eventually, because I could not pretend to ignore the pinkish light, I ran
indoors and grabbed my camera.
The seasons are changing; this I know because since the weekend I've had the
urge to change the house around, moving furniture hither thither. Also the
desire to open windows and doors, and to breathe in deeply.
My head, in a good way, is all over the place. My thoughts, not unlike the
furniture, are rearranging themselves. And moving out of the way for new
ones. They're popping up all over the place.
I'm choosing to live out of the box, because I've never been able to bear
cubicle life.
But before manifested in reality, they have to be clarified in my brain.
And I long to travel. And to streamline my life.
It's Monday night...
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