At this very moment, I am sitting in a fort in my living room surrounded by scented candles, listening to old jazz hits. I am a faithful believer in scented candles and all things good-smelling. All I need is fresh baked bread, lilacs, or my candles, and life is sweet.
I’ve been out of the house a lot recently, but today I’ve spent at home with a friend. It’s been one of those heavy gray days, all overcast and oppressive. I don’t know whether I look like the weather or (wordplay alert) whether the weather looks like me, but I find that gray days find me sleepy and dull, while the sun has me dancing down the streets reminding everyone to take time to smell the roses.
So we took this cloudy day and did the best we could with it: walks in the crisp air along forest streams with the ukulele, countless cups of tea, rummaging through piles of old ugly sweaters (I shall present my collection some day), and writing poetry in a fort.
Building a fort is such a nostalgic notion but it really does not need to evoke that sense of nostalgia. We all did it as a kid and it was fun, so why stop? Nothing wrong with a bit of pride in your own handiwork. It’s the perfect place to hide away from reality for a bit. As for the poetry? We tried word association and quickly discovered our stream of consciousness is disconcertingly dark and morbid. The results are most thought provoking.
Perhaps it’s best to leave the poetry to the poets.
Other than that I’ve been busy baking, climbing, swimming, socializing. Drinking coffee. Swooning over Colin Firth in the Woody Allen movie Magic in the Moonlight.
I went to see it this weekend and still have not gotten over what a brilliant movie it is. Set in the 1920s, it’s hilarious for one thing, and beautiful for another. It also does an annoyingly good job of questioning reality and life in general. But I shan’t give away any more, just trust me, watch Magic in the Moonlight! Thank me later.