There are two giant piles of leaves in the backyard that are now covered with snow and will probably remain there at least until spring. I haven't written anything of substance for months on end. Three cords of wood need to be stacked. There is a squeak from the front end of the car. I didn't make it to the top of La Barillette this year. We have no chicken stock. One thing is certain: tuning skis with a bottle of Marsannay and a wall of music can only mean that all things must pass and that it's time to turn and face the strange.
The 2010-2011 season begins tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment