It’s November now, but unseasonably warm. My window looks out on a spooky expanse of white, fog that that the sun illuminates but can’t break through. It is very strange, and kind of soothing. It is a forced slowdown for the busy-ness of life, in a way that snow isn’t in this part of the world. It is a bit of a breather. You can blame the weather for this moment of reflection, too.
Some days it is hard to focus. Hard to concentrate or develop ideas. Hard to even start. But I am jumping on this idea of a tree house because I think that starting something, no matter how far from the demands of my to-do list, is worthwhile. I’ll at least have the satisfaction of something to show for my time (besides and extremely well exercised scrolling finger and an enlarged internet browser history).
Here’s a delightful link I stumbled upon today, showing how wealthy women of old could spend their time:
Ah, for the resources to so create.
This will have to do for now.