There is something about blustery weather that makes me contemplative and odd.  It creates within me a paradox of desires.  On the one hand I wish to go be out, suffering the cold and sharp wind, delighting in its vigor.  On the other hand I’m a wimp when it comes to the cold, and have trouble warming once it reaches my bones. However, I’m intrigued by the energy of it so when my baby awakens from her nap, I will likely venture forth and hang out with the swirling leaves.

I’m listening to Glenn Gould playing the Goldberg variations of Bach. Perfect music for a blustery afternoon.  I love the light of a day like this.  It’s sharp and cold, overly bright like a fluorescent bulb.  Every so often today the sun peeks through and the light grows warmer, yellow.

Ack.  I was sitting here working and writing some here, but my daughter came home with friends and I lost my momentum.  This seems to be the m.o. these days.