The piles of snow that greeted us when we got back to Ithaca are still here, though much of it is blackened by exhaust from all the cars, which breaks my heart. It’s like a Hopkins poem. Or this one. These pictures were taken from a drive at dusk that John and I took a few days ago, when the snow was a little whiter.
I’m 23 weeks along now, and I can feel the baby moving, which is bizarre and really beautiful. I feel different when I bend over, and heavier when I try to get out of the car. It’s strange to be inhabiting such a different body. When we were at the grocery tonight trying to find some ripe avocados, I had to run back to the produce section after we checked out to buy a bag of oranges. Suddenly I was dying for them and could hardly stand it. As soon as we came home I sliced two right up and ate them both, and I don’t know when, if ever, I have tasted anything so perfect.