The First Week

It has been a week since I've arrived at Hub Feenix. The first weekend was a hint that winter had not yet fully relinquished his grip on the land. Like the last remnants of a retreating army, heaps of snow still lay on the ground. The mornings had a chill that had your tropical writer burrow into the nest of blankets. Now already it seems a memory. The earth is quickening into life. In ever widening gyres, I find paths into the woods and fields that surround the centre. I see hares, and once, a particularly handsome cat, yesterday there were deer disporting on the football field. The writing goes slowly, but that is to be expected. Sometimes, improving the empty page is the hardest thing there is.