Today I was angry and desperate when I got up. So entirely melancholy and wanting so much to just give up all hope. It is easier to not hope, to slide down into the mire of things and not weep at the beauty of some passing birds. No more weeping, no more beauty, no more longing. I will wait but that is all. I will wait for all of this to pass as it does and begin the slow steady pace of life again. So I worked on my garden. Ramming the hoe into the dirt with all the force of my anger, until a small brown toad leaped into my view. Then I slowed a bit and wondered at him. Wondered at the tree swallows who have returned just today. The singing of the red-wing blackbird and the amazing craftsmanship of the oriole's nest I found on the ground.