I have these moments where I just want to run. Run and run, into the woods, away from work and people and responsibilities. I want to run until my lungs burn and I am laughing; to throw myself down onto a mossy spot underneath the boughs of trees and lay back, my weary head on the cradle of bare flesh that is my arms, folded underneath me in the most comfortable of pillows; "To sleep: perchance to dream..."
These are the moments born from me not being able to imagine being stuck inside any longer. This winter, for whatever reasons, felt like the longest and hardest of my life; I enjoyed close to none of it! Fortunately we've missed out on the snow which has been plaguing some of my friends further west, and today were left instead with the rain--turning on and off all day, though a huge switch were constantly being flipped.
Spending time today looking over my newly tilled garden plot gave me such a sudden jump-start--as though my very soul were renewed--that I became immediately mesmerized and invigorated by all of the surrounding open pastures (at present cow-free), which I'd never before wandered through. I tread on soil off the common paths; found old, hard cow flops which became a thing of beauty, something belonging to me through discovery. It all became mine: the thickening grass of these pastures; the mallards calling to each other; the rain water, running down a slight slope. It all belongs to me on these days.
"These days" Nico