I love February. It's when the sun comes back into the house. November/December/January are gone, melted away in their darkness, and February arrives; still a little chill, a little coy, but leaving you with sun-warmed hair on a bright still day.
The true passing of the year is marked like that: the first musty smell of dried dead leaves in the fall, the first day that the sun leaves the back of your jacket between your shoulderblades warm, the first new earth smell of spring, and that day in August when it's so humid that the crooks of your elbows stick.
That's too far right now.
Now. Now I need to bring things back, closer to home. For more days like these:
There's a lot going on these days. Most of it very good, some of it everyday-worrisome. But home has been on my mind a lot lately. It's been February for a while, and for me that means the beginnings of my new year. Time to re-assess and re-imagine. We'll see what happens....