"When everything else has gone from my brain ... what will be left, I believe, is topology: the dreaming memory of land as it lay this way and that." Annie Dillard
The wind and cold reminded me how hard it can be to drag myself out of a warm house into a brisk breeze. But it also reminded me that the body is a furnace stoked by motion. The colder I am, the faster I walk.
Yesterday I was almost running.
(One place where I wasn't cold yesterday: a sunny bank full of warmth and glare.)
posted by Anne Cassidy at
8:19 AM
I’m a writer and editor, the author of "Parents Who Think Too Much" and a freelancer published everywhere from the "New York Times" to "Woman’s Day." I’ve been scribbling my thoughts in one tattered notebook or another for most of my life, but this blog is the first time I’ve gone public. I'm glad you've landed here, and I hope you visit often.
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