there is nothing quite so pretty as a world reduced to black-and-white. the sky is soft blue-gray, the only hint of color in this otherwise stark landscape, the very color and texture of my blanket when i was a child. the snow falls steadily, piles plush and pillowy around the trees.
come rest, it seems to whisper, as it brushes past my window. come sleep, and heal and dream.
i finished the revisions of seventh son yesterday - one more final read-through, one more final polish, and then i shall print a copy and send it off to jenn. i hope she will be pleased. tomorrow i go to my mother's, to spend the night with my brother, david. david has downs' syndrome and my mother is in the hospital, having her hip replaced - as i write this, in fact. a healing candle burns on my altar.
today i plan to wallow in domesticated bliss. libby's sick, but im finally feeling a bit better, and meg wants to earn money to replenish her holiday-depleted coffers. it's nice when kids are willing to work.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.