My eye lids are sand against my eyes. I cannot believe that quarter to five is a reasonable time to pull myself out of bed, so I sit there on my cushion focusing on my inhalation for as long as I can before springing forward up and out into the day. The result of an overly active pituitary gland, or my metabolism is in hyperdrive, or I just have an abnormal relationship to time and my body seems to be ruling my mind these days.
Rain has come to the farm: The wet grass hits my leg mid-calf; the clay based soil becomes soft and dangerously slippery underfoot. I bundle and wrap my body for this and am grateful for the rain and for the gray which is soft on my eyes.
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