that tree again. this morning the pink petals are winging about like tiny confused butterflies. they eventually swirl graceful deaths to the pavement. or stick to the window. Maddy has just left the couch to inform a skateboarder he is too loud for this section of the street. the grey sky has just started to share its’ light load. i just finished my second cup of coffee and a bowl of sprouted grain cereal.

i am on the couch this morning instead of at the desk in the little sun room. cross-legged, my bare feet stick to calves exposed by the capri-style jeans i wore for our walk earlier. i probably won’t shower until later this afternoon. my hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail. the patio door is open and a cool breeze chills the tops of my knuckles as i type. i like typing away from the desk, but i hate the laptop mouse pad and the way it strains my fingers in an awkward manner.

Maddy has jumped back up on the couch an sent me an inquisitive yawn: “is this what we’re doing this morning?” she accepts my answer and blinks slowly while resting her chin on the edge of the arm. her tail is curled around tightly and one paw bent backwards.

Jonathan comes home in the evening and likes to hear what i’ve been up to all day. i wish i could stretch my short answers. the truth is i don’t seem to do much, but the hours positively fly by. how can you explain thoughts that took hours to slowly develop like photographs in a darkened room? how can you do justice to a day that had no “to do” lists, no errands, no tangible goals, and yet was completely fulfilling on its’ own?

today i want to call my mom. i want to finagle the firefox flickr colour palette issue. i want to walk and walk and take photos. i want to finish another book. i want to nap. i want to smell spring and scuff my rubber boot in the soft earth. i want to catch up on email. i want to forget about the computer.

last night i looked at the clock and could not believe it was 8pm. so much to do, so little time.

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