This morning I woke up to another dreary, snowy, cold, white, un-springy day, a husband who couldn’t make it to work on account of a night spent puking and a pug literally hiding with his head under the covers and his ass facing the world.
I felt like doing the same thing, not puking, but, you know, just letting my ass face the world. Because, I mean, look at it…not a crocus in sight…
I was going to tell you all about it, after I took a few photos of the icicles hanging off the eaves,
the gray, dreary sky, the white flakes fluttering across bare and brown branches,
cold, leftover leaves,
big brown dog’s big brown cold nose,
and ground just begging to warm up…
I was prepared to feel like the pug who doesn’t wake up to face the dog dish until well after the noon hour, going to absorb the sad, gray, so unspringlike day into my veins and mope a bit over peanut butter toast and coffee that just couldn’t be black enough, ignore the dishes in the sink and just say well shit, it’s snowing. It’s snowing again.
But then the sun came out.
and the gray turned to sparkle,
the bland to beautiful,
the gray to blue,
and the leftovers looked a little less lonely.
Ah, the sun.
Look at that, the sun.
What a difference you made.