i remember the way the leaves moved on the carolina poplars that stood outside my bedroom window when i was a child. they were loud and rambunctious. a little like cheerleaders, jumping and shaking at the slightest breeze. i noticed the same type of poplar on my walk with edgar tonight. the wind was whipping up the lake pretty spectacularly and i could hear the familiar sound of those crazy leaves before i saw them. so distinctive, it rose above the sounds of waves and rocks colliding. i always forget that tree is there along our path, and then certain nights it's just standing there, part of our evening stroll, like a memento from my childhood.
and now as i sit in the shelter of my books, tucked into the little corner chair where the stories and the poems and the hundreds of little things i love smile down on me, the wind is moving around the house. my little house doesn't make a sound. the wind can't make it moan. the stone is thick and sure. 160 years of solid. the windows and the doors may whimper, but the walls are silent. the night is warm and loud and i love listening to it curl around us.
edgar sleeps. i iron strips of fabric that will be a quilt tomorrow. and tom sleeps and keeps the bed cozy for me.
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