I've been neglecting the blog. There is no lack of desire, simply a lack of time.
I have to pass my fourth semester of French in the spring, so I'm sitting in on the third-semester French class to review something I haven't thought about in 25 years. The memory of how to speak that language is buried under so many layers of life. Pulling it up from the bottom of that well is taking a bit of effort. Reading French is going well, but trying to compose a sentence... It's a lot like my poetry writing, painfully slow.
Creekside, everything is as it's always been: in a constant state of change. The August floods rewrote the banks. Giant tree snags unanchored briefly to sail downstream. The duckweed is regenerating. My thoughts are turning towards fire, socks, and burning leaves.
6 comments:
Bon jour, I wish I could speak French!
Moi aussi!
Socks...that is something I love about winter. I prefer to wear socks all year round. Socks and loafers, but then when it gets hot it looks a bit silly, but to me, that's generally the most comfortable.
I love bare feet, but not cold feet! I started looking at my socks a couple of weeks ago, but now they're on.
I never wear socks, unless I am exercising, and you all know how often that happens. I hate unnecessary clothes. When I'm at home, I don't even wear a shirt most of the time (TMI?).
Charmi, you will do fine in French; you're remembering it just fine from where I'm sitting. I love the "buried in so many layers of life" line, though.
No socks? Really!? Everyone is so different. For me, it's a pure temperature (as opposed to tactile) thing. I have Goldilocks feet. In the winter I always, always sleep with socks, those little snuggly blankets! In the summer I want to be bare to the bone. I'm wearing my blue fluffy socks right now. My feet are so happy. They're just right.
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