Can spring be far behind?

You could feel it even if your eyes were closed and your body wrapped in ermine. I am of course talking about the approaching winter. Sometimes I feel like I am on a boat in the middle of a lake and the mist has descended. My recollection of the shoreline is as misty as my view but I am quite happy just to float across the surface, though I know the water will not always be this calm. With winter there comes a kind of subliminal withdrawal from the world. Not by me but by or in the thoughts of others. I have noticed this despite the imminent parties, the profits, the lifestyle, and inevitable questions about faith. Talking of faith, I persuaded the artist to get in touch with someone today relating to her work and she felt much better about it afterwards. Her initial reluctance is cousined to that same reticence she has about galleries. She also emailed the gallerist she saw on Friday, which is good. It is of course ironic that I should be doing all the cajoling when in fact I can always benefit from some encouragement too. That said, we are supportive of each other and this not only is the key to the work but also the life. For my part, I have been juggling with the various potentials surrounding me. (Do they see me as still on my boat on the lake?) The stakes are high and the possibilities include pretty serious responsibilities, which I welcome. One chance. That is all I need. Likewise the artist.