Since the icy grip of winter has returned to the North Bay, I stayed inside today and did wintry things. I drank cocoa, I read my novel, I watched baseball on television, I listened to my Rosanne Cash CD. She was on Letterman last night, looking and sounding as good as ever. The music I have is from the early eighties, and that voice of hers is a perfect way to warm a winter day in April.
Sometimes when the wind blows like this I stand at the window and just watch. The trees have enough of their foliage that the swaying of the branches is accompanied by the little dance the leaves do, bending and twirling. The leafy limbs of the birch in my garden are tossed back and forth like a cheerleader's pompoms.
The grasses are still green, but they're high enough now to have some personality. They rock back and forth with an irregular, syncopated rhythm, a ragtime rustle. If they'd stay this height and color, I'd leave them all year. Last spring I counted at least ten different kinds of grasses growing in the back yard alone. They give it texture and character, but the beauty won't last long after the rain stops.
After Rosanne was through, I moved on to some early Emmylou Harris. I've recently replaced my Emmylou LPs with CDs, and it's good to hear her sing "Bluebird Wine" and "Queen of the Silver Dollar" again after so many years. It's also good to know that heavenly voice is still around, still radiating an inner warmth even singing the saddest of lyrics. "Well, you really got me this time, and the hardest part is knowing I'll survive."
It rained overnight, and the threat of showers was in the air all day. I didn't get any gardening done because of the way the wind aggravates my allergies. I chose not to walk this morning for the same reason, although I probably should have braved the icy weather and got my little bit of exercise in. It was an inside day, and inside I stayed. I even bundled up to walk out and get the mail this afternoon.