these winter nights & pages i've been turning

this is what these photos and my nights sound like

nights spent alone in the colder months seem to be more lonely than usual:

i eat my meals with no companion but my laptop, which is a bad habit to get into--

at least i can have a semblance of a conversation with pretty images and words on the interwebs.

maybe one of these nights i'll embrace my alone-ness and simply have my meal

while watching the flicker of a lit candle...except tonight is my last night alone for a few months!

each night i  have turned on my twinkle lights and lit a few candles...trying to make this place feel and look warm, despite our old leaky windows that ceej usually protects me against with his big hugs.

i look at pretty photos of europe covered with winter, and pine forests quiet as snow falls

while i sip my hot spiced milk.

i fall asleep reading. i've decided to revisit steinbeck's pages as i'm trying to brush up a bit

on my twentieth century american literature for a class i'll be taking come january.

i am happy with thoughts of going to class again. reading. discussing. writing. melting.

perhaps next i'll visit mr. eliot, zora,  or ms. morrison...or maybe delve into the ever difficult, but rewarding gertrude. and i finally have an excuse to read some more history books.

i also get to delve into literature i never have before: restoration british literature.

it's a bit intimidating going into a graduate classroom that i know little about its literature, politics, or history. 

but, ah, school. i love it. i'm giddy just thinking of it.

but, i digress...

my nights have been lonely. but somehow they've been pretty.

i love my starry lights, my warm drinks as i turn pages filled with pulsing words and images,

and my music as i fall asleep trying to keep warm alone in a bed too big for this one person.

cj's plane lands tomorrow night...he'll be back at home,

and our home will significantly increase its warmth.

hoping your weekend has been warm and restorative. 

outside in between time...

i love when that time comes when it is neither day nor night.

my ears perk up, and my skin settles in.

the best moment for walking, slowly, letting it all come and go.

Manifesto Monday: dusk

photo by me. south beach, inverness. summer solstice.
for years i used to wake up easily at 4:30 or 5:00 a.m.

i thought of myself as a morning person. these days i no longer wake up much earlier than the sun does, though, in some ways, i still believe i am a morning person.

last night i realized that i am a dusk person as well. we watched the sun set beneath the waters of the ocean...the last people on the continent to see the end of day. all alone. once we saw the sun set we savored a few more moments on the beach before we slowly moved back into our car. we had a long drive home ahead of us.

as we drove i felt at rest in the light of dusk. it is a slow time, a contemplative time. dusk tells me it is okay to breathe, to observe, and to listen. slow.

what is it about the coming of darkness that is oh so beautiful to me? i have yet to put my finger on it. is it the defused lighting? is it the first sightings of night stars? is it the cosiness of nearing bedtime? whatever it is, i welcome it.

often we are attracted to the metaphor of a sunrise...that we get to begin anew. it is indeed a good metaphor. but, i too am attracted to the coming of night, to darkness. when everything is quiet and still. there are a few things to see: stars, perhaps the moon, and what is immediately in front of you. and there is something that is quite relaxing about not seeing much else. your ears hear more, you taste the air more accutely, and you feel the slight breeze or stillness of air. perhaps we are truly more aware when we are not overstimulated by sights. night is simple.

dusk rolls in the night, and rolls in calm. now, after the solstice, the days grow darker. and that is a good thing too. this i believe.