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2018-02-26 - 10:17 a.m.

in like a lion, out like a different lion.

a nor'easter is lashing its way up the shore, and you can smell the sea in the air from our front door. yesterday, we drove to an odd little park in search of phyllite. a bloat of suburban homes bulged and strained against the coast, but out on the little promontory, a few twisted pines stood remote and lonely on sea-hewn rocks the color of mercury glass.

"bird," said the baby. "bird. bird."

because the tide was low, we descended on stairs made of old stone and crumbling cement. walking on pebbles and bladder wrack at the foot of a sea wall, one could not see the houses.

i filled my pockets with shards of sea glass and flat periwinkle shells. we were at the extremity of their range, but their clear yellow color suggested a comfortable life in this sheltered cove.

* * *

in the austerity of its marcan form, lent is a season for paring down. in the garden, green tips peek out and get nipped back. oh, we are all a little bit too eager for the spring.

* * *

reading: the complete anthology of moomin comics.
listening to: lana del rey, old money.
working on: button-shoulder playsuits and sun hats for the baby to wear in the summer.
in the garden: plans and more plans.

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