The winter garden is slow, not unlike me today. I feel like Im moving through some very thick gelatinous medium. Took some time to just sit in the sun and finish reading The Dutch House, by Ann Patchett. I would have turned around and read it right over again except it was due today, so back to the library it went. It hasn’t been warm enough, or I’ve been too distracted, or whatever, but this is the first time in a good long while that I’ve just sat out back and listened to the garden grow. It was lovely.

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