This morning I helped the melting snows of winter, move on.
After that I climbed part of the mountain
to sit and soak in the hot springs.
Unfortunately, the melting snows of winter
had moved on, and in.
It wasn’t very hot.
Not nearly as hot as the bath I took this
evening.
In between I had climbed out, fallen back
in and climbed out again.
I had rubbed goose pimples vigorously with
a towel and headed down the mountain and back to town to drink hot tea.
And eat toasted baguettes and fig jam.
I spoke with my daughter on the phone.
She told me that there are some days when
your balance is all wrong and you just can’t spin; the double pirouette of
yesterday becomes the single pirouette of today.
Even if you wear socks.
I told her that there are also some days
when your balance is all wrong and you just can’t climb out of a hot spring
without tumbling back in again.
She understood.
Socks might have helped, but what’s the
point of going in a hot spring with your socks on?
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4 comments:
Thanks for this one :)
Because you are fed up with the archives?
No, because of pirouettes and socks and balance and hot springs. I'm too dumb to understand what is archival or primeval or even antediluvial and what is simply the human condition.
ah, but you clearly understand that someone nakedly loosing their balance and tumbling back into the spring that they have just elegantly exited is worthy of a laugh!
As it should be.
Now i'll look up antediluvial.
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