five-sense Friday

The beauty of some of the past few days has just bowled me over--in fact, I drafted an ode to spring on the blog, but wanted to go out and take some pictures of this particular pink flowering bush by the sidewalk before I posted it. Then I woke up this morning to this:

Hello, late April snow. Josh called it a "late spring snowstorm." I guess that's what happens in Montana. He told me this while we drank coffee and ate pumpkin pie for breakfast, so I suppose at least our food was appropriate.

So on this snowy day, which I thought I would spend on a long walk and working on a writing deadline in a cafe, I'm cozy inside the apartment like I was for much of the winter. And I'm...

hearing: the dripping of melting snow from the roof to the outside windowsills; the hum of a refrigerator and laptop computer; the return to muffled privacy after days with open windows and birdsong

smelling: the coffee Josh made this morning; the strange shift of warm weather to cold

seeing: pages of words; piles of books and notes as Josh writes a sermon for Sunday before and after work each night; the slowly emptying cupboard as I try to use up our dry goods before moving

feeling: a sweater on my arms again; my hair against my neck as it grows out from the interview cut; still a little off after having my eyes dilated this week; strange at the thought of leaving this little sunny home before too long

tasting: coffee, pie, heavy whipping cream, tea; anticipating taco salad for lunch and pasta for dinner; a near-endless supply of chocolate in honor of Resurrection