greenstorm | Wintertime

I live in the city, in the same year that everyone else does right now. And yet, walking home, I see two boys throwing gravel up at a young girl's window so that she will come out to her balcony. She throws something down to them, and I walk on.

Certainly it's different then in classical romance; she's in a third-story apartment without a buzzer, they're wearing engineered winter coats. But-- there's something magical about it anyhow. I'd only ever read of it in books.

There were birds in the park, a number of small dark ones, all picking at seeds. And as they ate, as they shifted, they always formed a perfect circle in the grass that shaded from dark in the center to light outside, from many birds close together to a scattering that, nonetheless, kept to the mathematical perfection of their circle. I walked by, and they took wing and landed on the other side of the road, the circle broken.

It's cold out, below freezing (I would say zero, but there are Americans who read this), and if I don't touch something metal every minute or two to ground myself I build up a static charge so that the hairs on my arms stand up in a soft prickle. I think this is because of my synthetic suede/fur coat which I love dearly, and which keeps me warm despite the occasional flake of snow.

And now I'm done, home and warm (oh, so warm, I do love this apartment) until I next need to go out on Monday morning, to run, or a little before that, to get some clothes from TOH. I'm thinking the SO might be able to do that for me, though. I finally gave up on getting my brush back, and just bought another. It's good to have one at both houses anyhow.

It's lunchtime. I'll eat, and water my plants, and perhaps there will be more to say later. Until then, take care.