TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: profile
It's a triple jumper day. I'm wearing a coat inside, in front of a hearthfire. Yesterday we walked to the farmstead, past wraith-like trees and shadowy buildings, teetering along a glassy steep road until it got narrow, mud-rough, and frost-crunchy near Granny's house. My hair was damp from walking through the mist, and we met only the mother-in-law and the husband's aunt. The view was amazing: a fluffy quilt of fog obscured the town and surrounding land, and above it all mountains and blue sky.