Quite significant events are happening in my life right now, and for the last month I decided I could not write about them. Too depressing, too much information, just too much. My thought was "who wants to read this?" But a few loving girlfriends have said that they did. Things are starting to clear and musically they need to come forth. Like new branches from a limb thought dead, I see signs of life, glimmers of truth that hope springs forward, and hope that I can see past the sadness to the promises.
The weather in Minnesota has not helped my mood either; we are still in the Forties, with four inches of snow last week and more predicted. Perhaps the weather will also soon turn to spring and improve my melancholy.
I really like that word, melancholy. Abe Lincoln often said he suffered with deep bouts of melancholy his whole life. I don't care much for the season of melancholy, but I think the word transports me to a very deep place.
As I work through the events on paper, please see through the words to the place in my heart that is still grounded in love. I am hopeful, in spite of what you may hear.
The pictures are earlier April, as I begged for winter to release its grasp of my yard.
