And so, it’s been Hibernation Station in these parts for something like six weeks? Bedhead, house shoes, clementines for breakfast. I was on vacation for a week, and I’m not certain Martin and I left the house for anything other than a milk run on a random Friday. It’s been lovely, really, and yet, Quarantine has this tired way of sucking you dry. The clouds hang low; the color drains from the world. It’s unsaturated, quiet, semi-maddening.
Luckily, it's beautiful right here.
The fires are a delight, and I saved just enough room in my weekend for Divy’s stuffed panda and a pair of sneakers (he’s been into tumbling this week and let it be said for posterity: this is not a phase I should be encouraging, but really, you should see the panda’s transformative back flips. Stunn-ing.)
