Today I loved the crispy cold, the conversation between ice and sunfire,walking out into the woods, the sky gathering clouds like a coverlet. They would disperse, I saw that, as did the sky. These are days and night I remember, expected, in the olden days. Frost snaps and traps, cold folds and colds, stars rise and hold, moon calls like a loon, or a luna. She woke me, the starry tramp, swirly, twirly, but it’s ok. Ok because it tells me I am here, I’m alive, pissed off and thankful.

Today I received a ton of wood. In a bag. In the cold, dry, welcome of an afternoon, I barrowed out myself behind the barrow, to bring in the wood. Gloved up, to avoid the splinter attack, I managed three loads, my hands not obeying me, my fingers weaker, my back shouting, and knew I should stop. That whole stopping thing arises the feisty in me. I could do all of this and more. I could deliver lambs, feed guests, manage children. work with anything, anything.

Not so, now. And, it is up to me to accept this. And I do. I was who I was. I am who I am. The only one who will ever make this messy, is me. I have offers of help, many and random. We are a team, people. And there is so much thankfulness in saying this.

I need help.