Good Morning!

There is nothing in this world that compares to a day like today in Chicago. I say that, at mid-morning, sipping coffee and gazing out the window at the sun and the bright blue sky. It is the first message from the gods of winter that this too shall pass.

Winter never fails to defeat me, to an extent. I could say that this town is good for me, that it forces me to be vigilant. I’m always digging around in my dark corners, like a good glutton, but the strength and the duration of a midwestern winter challenges even my most quixotic ventures beyond the pale.

Yesterday I threw very old apple cores out of my moonroof at a Toyota 4Runner that let a SUIT driving an Infinity into the traffic jam I’d been sitting in for almost an hour on my way to shove fancy sticks into some pots outside of a hotel downtown. It was almost 60 degrees at one point, but the wind blew an average of 50 miles per hour, making it literally life threatening to be outside. It blew people over, and I threw moldy apple cores at a nice guy who was, without judgement, trying to help...while debris tumbled from the ledges of skyscrapers, and windows, glistening in the intermittent sunlight, bowed and flexed to the thrashing of the furious winds.

Winter: 1

Caroline: 0

Then, I woke up this morning at 8:00, without an alarm, sore from the miles I’ve walked and the gallons upon gallons of water I’ve tipped over the edges of gun-metal grow pots overlooking the sprawling city of Chicago, my hands still throbbing from the gripping and wiping and twisting and spraying, and the sun is out, and the wind is calm (for the moment).

It’s an abusive relationship, tough love. The winter knocks me off my feet, then extends a hand to help me up, saying, “It won’t always be like this, like tomorrow, but it won’t always be excruciating.”

So take a deep breath. You’ve earned this. You’ve worked hard. You have been as tenacious as the month of February. You are a lion, and March is coming.

You are the moon.