The happy place

The crayfish wire cages were empty. They lay scattered here and there, on surprisingly different places on the lawn; blown in all directions.

So then — like I wrote earlier — there weren’t any crabs in them, and no crayfish.

Crayfish are murk dwellers, who during winter go into a type of stand-by mode in the lakebed, hidden by the dark depths of mud. I think primarily that’s why those cages were empty, being as they were: on land.

But in my imagination, it could’ve been something in there.

A tall pine tree has blown over at mother’s, uprooted by the giant forces of nature.

And the neighbours car port did blow away, denting their car before taking off.

And the roof of a nearby hotel. Like it was just some hat…

But now only icy winds are blowing over the frosted ground, which glitters in the sunlight.

But soon there will fall lots of snow.

They say.

And it’s also soon spring

This weather, in a freakish coincidence, mirrors how I feel.