The seasons are changing up here in the Rockies. Today the high should be near 80 and the sky is one big field of blue, but yesterday it was a very different story.
When I left the house in the morning a cold damp mist covered the ground, leaving a film of water over every surface. The was a solid wall of grey, no clouds, just one big haze. The temperature started around 50 and never got higher than about 58. My hands ached from the cold as I walked to the bus stop. It didn't really rain, but there was so much water in the air that occasionally some drops fell on the windshield of the bus as we drove along.
All day I kept looking out at the weather, but I wasn't seeing the parking lot or the sky; I was seeing the Cumberland Plateau rising up in the distance. In my mind, I was walking down a small town street in a misty rain. I was thinking of a little bookshop and a pair of green shamrock earrings. I thought of sitting down with a bowl of potato and mushroom soup and mexican corn bread and wiping snow crab soup out of the beard of the man sitting across the table. And of course, of knowing just how tender the bottom he was sitting on was.
As you regular readers may have been able to tell by the lack of posts here, my life has been incredibly busy lately, and I haven't had as much time for some things as I would like, but some things are still incredibly dear to me, like a magical week in March, and the person I shared it with. Even if his bottom is getting a bit neglected.
I love you very much, little bunny.
Mistress
