Nostalgia
It has now been nearly a year since I was house-sitting and I feel the loss even more keenly every day. I would never trade those days for anything else. Now, alas, I only regret the fact that I only posted one journal entry the entire time. I wish I could read more about it and the feelings I experienced. I've been reading "Konatke and Lilah" which I wrote while up there and remembering every moment sitting with the warm fire at my back, a thesaurus at one knee with the bottle of vodka and a Red Bull at my other knee, notebook in my lap, cat in the cage, dog by the door, wind howling, blowing the bushes, freaking me out, winter-blue lighting as the sun has just set, but before that golden, golden, beauty. The crunch of wet, decaying snow beneath my boots on the daily trek down the drive for the mail, dog panting in joy, cat meowing trying to keep up, silence all around but for the wind in the pine branches, those branches and all others covered in hoar frost. Aw, beautiful! I wish I could do that every year.