It's not as cold today, this 20th day of January. Still, I am in need of much rest. I stoke the fire and wander to the window. The gardens are still dusted with snow. The bare limbs, they sparkle, kissed by fairies in the night. The path to the woods is froze over, a ribbon of moonlight in a bright, sunny field. The shadows of the trees play tricks on me, running here, scampering there, making me believe in the creatures said to inhabit these woods. I know beyond the tree line there are things I can not explain. I smile. It is as it should be.
I settle into the plush leather chair, the one that's over sized just enough to threaten to swallow me whole. Benson was kind enough to set tea for me. He's such a dear old soul. I expect Sir Jon to be in the parlor, polishing his camera lenses. He is off on expedition tomorrow, hunting for wild pixies in Bambry (shooting only with camera, of course!). I asked him to bring me back a crocus. They're said to still be blooming there.
For now I'll sip tea (Earl Grey, is there any other for a day like this?) and let my mind wander. I've a thought to get an atlas, to let my fingers plan my next grand escape. Could it be to outer Mongolia? Or perhaps to Shang-ri-la? My eyes are suggesting Nod. With a clink of fine china, and the lull of a blanket wrapping around me, I happily, happily agree.
~ The Lady