There came a point, about two or three days ago now, where I began to believe that the cold grip of winter had almost released us from its grasp and spring was on its way. In actual fact, the truth was nothing close to my assumption.
It rained for perhaps fifteen hours (I was asleep for some of this presumed time) in fits and starts, and then rained a bit more. But when the snow had nearly melted from the persistent downpour, the air became cold once again and the drizzle turned to fluffy white flakes! Now we have several inches of snow on the ground and it shows no sign of wishing to melt. I am mildly confused, but still looking forward to the inevitable spring rains which must be on their way.
In regard to poetical and artistic endeavours - I have been most unproductive in these respects. I am ashamed to say that when I sit down, pencil in hand and notebook on lap, the words seize up and refuse to arrange themselves in a rhythmically pleasing fashion. I hope that this affliction shall soon be eased, and when it is I shall be sure to display the results of my flood of creativity.
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