A snow globe day; purple finches eating safflower seeds at my window feeder. Picked up my favorite Charles Wright book, Appalachia, to read my favorite poem Stray Paragraphs in February, Year of the Rat. I like the poem so much that when I went to go see him read in Charlottesville a few years ago, I had him sign that poem in particular. It felt fitting, since the poem had been written in Charlottesville, like most of his early stuff. He seemed very old at the reading; being he was hard of hearing, I was instructed to write my name on a yellow post-it note and hand it to him to sign my book. I still have the post-it marking the page in the book: worn pencil lines of my name in my own handwriting. Of course, it's a bit silly to bookmark it. It's the first poem in the book.

A love of landscape's a true affection for regret, I've found
Forever joined, forever apart,

                            outside us yet ourselves.

Each year, I find something to love a little more about that poem. I feel like I've written this exact post every year since I've had this blog. 

Storm warning until 4pm. It looks like ours is the only county that has a real warning up, but the snow seems light and conversational now. I'm going out in it shortly to take the dog over to play before Galentines Day and the rest of it. 

How will I know what I feel until I see what I write? It is cozy in my little house with the snow falling. I like to think about putting on my fatigues and going out into it.