As I sit watching the sun rise through the morning mist heralding another lovely autumn day I feel sorry for Chris but I remember those days.
I woke up to ice this morning. Falling from the sky.
The actual saying is: In like a lion, out like a lamb. Some years that works out, others not so much.
According to the Farmers’ Almanac, the weather folklore stems from ancestral beliefs in balance, meaning if the weather at the start of March was bad (roaring, like a roaring lion), the month should end with good weather (gentle, like a lamb).
But it does seem to have paused. I guess the best word for this moment is dreich as I described in this post here.
So this has become a Writing Day staying dry, warm, and hopeful. On my window sill sits a harbinger of spring, the perfume of which takes me to fields of flowers, rustling…
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