Posted by: sulya | 27 March 2010

Dear Winter,

Last fall, I was quite convinced you had taken a lover.  Autumn held sway for much longer than I had anticipated.  You, I imagined, were flushed and lost in the heart of something lovely and consuming, too busy to bring the crystalline water, to harden the ground, the stop at least the surface of the river from moving.  (There is, in a strange way, so much more land in winter…)

In any case, I thought maybe you were gettin’ some and that’s why things weren’t frigid and evil around here. I fully expected it to end and probably to end badly, though, because you are after-all fairly stormy by nature and anything that could  so hold your attention away from your job – which I suspect you love – would have to tap right into that intensity, feed it, nurture it.

Passionate beginnings can often lead to messy ends and I was not wrong… You got back to work with all the showy panache of someone who must compensate for having neglected their work for a while, for having been “preoccupied.”  You got back to work with the fury of someone working from a place of pain. You got back to work with a vengeance.  And, while certainly not some of your most vivid work, winter around here was starting to feel rather long until the beginning of March.

You tried to get back together didn’t you?  I mean, you left the desk without logging out of important files, without tucking in your chair and flew off to that supplies room to make-out like an adolescent in full heat? I’m not judging you, by the way, we all have needs and there is sometimes nothing more dangerously seductive than familiarity.

I’m glad you felt good for a while.  It was absolutely lovely around here for a good solid three weeks.  Melting snow, roads that aren’t grooved apocalypses of snow and ice waiting to hurl me into parked cars on either side and then this past week… A mess of snow and warmth, of slush and dangerous ice.  You are moody and lost-seeming, cannot make up your mind…

And even as I write this I think maybe I’ve got it wrong.  I think, there is no way that Winter isn’t a burning hot BABE  in her own way.  No reason to think she has any trouble finding a lover or good times.  I think, maybe when winter fails to begin on time it’s because she’s depressed?  Maybe it’s because she is suffering from ennui of some kind, wondering about the point of it all after a summer without work?  Maybe, I wonder, Winter is happily married and just has moods like the rest of us?  Maybe her best work is born of that security and comfort and her storminess is just part of the job description?

I don’t mean to wrongly classify you.  I may not be a fan of your work, per se – even when I can objectively find it beautiful… Stunning… Calming – but I respect it.  I respect you.

So, regardless of what has happened to set the moody tone of the last month, I’m here for you honey.  I’m here.  I will not pretend not to be annoyed that you waited until just after I washed the car to bring more wet and mud but I will also not pretend I have the first clue about how hard your job is, how BIG and important.

Anyway…  I’m ready for you to sit down and relax and let things bloom but take the time you need.

I understand.


The Octopus In Residence


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