It’s pretty quiet up here.
The usually sunny and blue skies are disguised by snow: a fine mist that lays like a fog over the river. January crawls on and I realize I have a bit of cabin fever.
I’ve been doing stuff: yesterday I went skating. The day before, I stopped by the Sam Waller Museum to see about volunteering. Tomorrow I’m driving to Snow Lake, to deliver a rescue dog for the pet rescue with which I’m volunteering.
But something’s missing.
Warmth, yeah, but I think another cause of the “fever” has to do with the temporary hold on my creative work.
My second novel gurgles and burps in my brain but apart from Swarm edits, I haven’t been doing a whole lot. This is partly because I have to dive more deeply into research. And it’s also because I’m in the midst of transforming my creative space into an area more inspiring that what it currently is: a drab basement room with cold lime sherbet coloured walls.
The spare room/library is also getting a redo; its deep lavender walls already primed and ready for a new colour. My paint choices are predictable: oranges and reds, those vivid shades that are absolutely lacking in the outer world.
The ice planet, J. calls it. At work, an old-timer who was picking up his grandchild told him, If you can get through January….
You’re home-free, I guess he meant. I hope so. And I hope I’m also working happily in the bright corners of my cabin.