THAT’S TRITE WITH TWO T’S
I’ve stopped and started this journal entry about 5 times now. Everything I start to write sounds trite. I’m making myself yawn. yaaa-a-a-a-wn. The sun shone all weekend. What a gift of sunny days we’ve had this winter, even WITH the snowstorms and Siberian Express and usual quota of grey, rainy days. There is so much snow on the ground and it’s so cold that despite the sunshine, the snow doesn’t seem to be melting very fast, even though the edges are looking acid-dipped, sun-chewed, exhaust-browned. The other day I meant to write about my morning ride to work, after...