Sometimes, I have nothing to say.
Today is one of those days.
Today I could talk about the lovely hike we took as family yesterday at Mt. Greylock, enjoying the early Spring sunshine and the rushing water of the Money Brook trail at the base of the Hopper Trail.
Today I could write about the joy my son showed as he went outside this morning for a little Easter Egg hunt that I woke early to give him.
I won’t. I have nothing. The words aren’t here today. Maybe they didn’t make it back down the mountain. Maybe they got caught on the other side of the Petersburgh Pass.
We did take a different route home after all.
Maybe my words got lost along the way…
For now my fingers are chill against my keyboard. They do not wish to move. I scuff my feet on the rug beneath my desk to warm them. I’m dressed in several layers against the chill.
My husband insists the house needs to be open and aired out despite the overcast skies and threat of rain.
Despite the fact that it’s barely 50° outside and little over 59° in the house….
So I have nothing to say. The energy is being spent elsewhere.
I think my husband has it. He’s stapling insulation to the ceiling of our “soon to be” new kitchen, a project several years in the making.
Sometimes there are so many things in one’s head that there is nothing to say because there are too many things to say.
Sometimes I have days like this.
More than I would like…
(That said, there is so much stirring in my mind this afternoon from the Anti-Rent War and what had been a truly feudal society in the Americas during the first fifty years of the United States’ existence… and that it happened so close to this place I call home now. War in its many forms seems to be a historical setting to everywhere I’ve lived. That… and so many things are stirring my thoughts. My head is a full and exciting place these days. It just awaits some sense of direction and order.)