I’ve been stuck for words about something for weeks, starting and scrapping poems, trying in vain to construct some paragraphs… just mired. What I’ve been working to express is the way in which parts of myself that have become cold and/or frozen over the past three or so years have been thawing. Trips to the laundromat where I take unexpected joy in folding the clothes of our awaited little girl… times in the midst of preparations and general anxiety where I find myself in eager anticipation… random bursts of hope that radiate through my life… I see how I’ve protected myself with defenses, sadness, and attempted invulnerability, and how understandable and reasonable those walls have been, but how wonderful it is to see them falling away.
Anyway, in the midst of this frustration, I thought I found a perfect metaphor right in the middle of the gardens that I tend. An evocative image for what is bubbling up in my life right now– hope persistently bubbling up through the encrustations of cold adaptation. Yet somehow, the photos I took just didn’t work, either. But I wanted to leave one here, at least, for posterity.