between sun and shadow

It’s cold today.  The waning half moon glittered on the fresh snow from yesterday like stars borrowed from the Milky Way.  At 6am this morning it was a whole ten degrees outside, and with not a cloud in the sky, I’m damn near certain it’ll drop at least another degree or two before the sun rises.  So I’m dressed for the weather.  I love sweaters.  Always have.  I’ve been living in them here lately.  Monday was a big, heavy, chunky, undyed, unbleached cotton knit one.  I bought it at college in 1995 and my husband used to laugh at me cause I’d pack this thing over and over for moves, never wearing it.  Now we’ve lived on the shores of Lake Erie, and when I went searching for it, I couldn’t find it!  So on our recent whirlwind roadtrip back to Ohio I went searching and found it tucked in the bottom of a tote that never made it up.  And now I have my warm, cuddly sweater to add to my wardrobe.  Asked Mr. Greyson how it looked and he said, “Warm.”

Today I’m in wool.  A turtlenecked shortwaisted wool sweater.  And even with the cold temperatures, with the snap in the air that makes you bury your hands in your pockets, I look at this sweater and it makes me think of August.  It’s a deep, dark, green.  The color you find at that line between sun and shadow as the sun filters through the canopy of the forest.  The color of a forest that has passed the first flush of bright green spring into the recharge and store time of summer when you just know the trees are burying the memory of warmth deep in their roots to get them through the winter months.

I’m pulling from my roots right now.  Remembering the sun on my skin and warm breeze lifting my hair.  Winter can’t last forever.


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