I used to call my studio apartment "The Enchanted Treehouse", because for most of the year the windows were blocked by the leaves of the trees outside. It was easy to forget I was living in a city. I just ran across a site about willow architecture, with photos of trees that have been planted to grow into buildings. Fascinating! I was especially interested in the theory that gothic architecture was inspired by the ways in which trees grow.
This reminds me of the circus trees that I first read about on
I would love a little willow chapel in my back yard.
We're not even three days into Daylight Saving Time and I'm already cursing the change in schedule. My sleep pattern has been thrown off and I generally feel disoriented. It doesn't help that the sun has been blocked by thick clouds for days (I was unable to see the northern lights) and it has started to snow. I scream in silent protest. No! I am not ready for winter! I fear the onset of my seasonal depression; on Saturday I was barely able to drag myself from the couch at 5:30, simply because it was dark and I wanted to hibernate.
The fallen leaves this morning were a lavish embarassment of riches, a wasteful decadance of color. Though intellectually I understand how leaves can go from green in spring to red in fall, it still seems mysterious, magical. The vibrant red and gold against the muted sidewalk gray and emerald grass were breathtaking.
Aspen leaves fall, gold coins to Danae's lap.
I've been busy trying to winterproof the house before it gets much colder. Projects like this seem to take up all my time & energy these days. But quite a few people have asked in the past week whether I have a blog, so I guess I should tear myself away from insulation foam to write occasionally.
The boss hasn't responded to my request to change my hours. I think I may just start the new schedule this week, even if he doesn't answer my email. I swear, he drives me crazy. Few people make me swear so vehemently or so regularly.