“We are, as a species, addicted to story. Even when we go to sleep, the mind stays up all night, telling itself stories.”
~ Jonathan Gottschall
As I write this, tree branches are laden with dripping ice and a frozen slime coats the windows. The week has brought influenza, a blizzard that shut the province down for 24 hours, a concert performed with lurgy-blocked ears once we’d all dug out from the snow drifts. And now it’s raining ice.
In the middle of it all, a new short story pokes out of the ground and begins to unfurl, as welcome as any sign of spring as we slam the door on winter and look forward to all manner of things blossoming.