May 11th, 2017

hasui hirakawa morning

Delight it is in age and May to see the morn arise,

And then to burrow back into all the flannel and wool and duck down and go to sleep again.

The cherry glows at night and a cold wood-smokey smell comes in the small crack in the study window (left open so computer doesn't overheat as I leave it on all night.) Mrs Islamic Studies was complaining today that her magnolia blossoms are so slow to fall in this grey chill. I went out to work in fleecy and cloth jacket and scarf and woolly hat and froze without gloves, so wore winter coat for my evening stroll up to the bank.

But the sun was out when I left work, reminding me that it doesn't take much to expel the winter’s flaw. When temperatures return to normal next week I shall forget this autumnal interval, as also- probably- my virtuous record of eating less and exercising more. Well, maybe: since every twinge of the knee reminds me of the threatened operation and various people's horror stories of how it feels to have metal in your leg during a Toronto winter.

(Oh, LJ, you are so unamusing. "Feel free to use hashtags! The # symbol is precedes the tag followed by one or more keywords that will properly lead individuals to conversations and discussions pertaining to a specific topic or theme." Yes, and that's why numbering things "#1, #2, #3" leads to links that go nowhere.)