...of history, trash and memory...are all consigned now, to contractor bag, give-away box or moving carton. the house is swept, blessed by salt water, smudged with sage. Beloved posted very clear signs indicating what's to be discarded, and what's to be sent.
it strikes me that the ice storm last night that coated the world in white is a blessing, a Gift from Hecate. it felt good against my face this morning as i gingerly walked the puppies. the grays, the muted browns and greens outside my window this icy morning are soothing, the slickness is like ointment, keeping me cocooned in flannel and fuzzy socks.
the ice has turned to rain - the temperature is rising. in the words of my newest hero, there is a balm in gilead, there is, there is, there is.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.