Winter Where I Live

It gets grey, rainy, breezy, windy. Even when it isn’t that cold, the humidity is relentless and the days raw; my knuckles ache. The unctuous red mud. That mud that is everywhere when you live in the country. That Alabama red clay is its worst self when the rains come.

All that is true and so is this: The besotting beauty, when the rain has passed and the ground fog, quietly, ever so quietly, slips in and wraps itself around my heart. I love this place.

One thought on “Winter Where I Live

  1. I am so glad you have found your spot in this world. We took Sox with us when we went to the south of Portugal. Lo and behold they had red clay there. I have given her a bath and still, a month later, the used to be white legs are tinged red.

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