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Sock Popping

I have a lot to do today. There are work demands, with deadlines. That has to be addressed so I can tackle publisher demands this weekend, with deadlines. And there is life up here – about 18 inches of snow and ice, in layers, that need to be removed from the upper deck today before the big melt tomorrow. Otherwise, it will all melt against the brick and wood construction which can cause bad things to happen over time. Icicles have to come down so they don’t fall down and do damage.

upper deck in winter

Snow on upper deck, January 10, 2014

And I get to fetch, feed and entertain children today while Knotty Girl is off in the city, painting.

I was thinking about all this as I popped open a pair of fluffy thick socks this a.m. Popped open? What do you call it when you unfold socks that have been folded into a nice neat ball?

Anyway, the act of sock popping gave me a moment of nostalgia. There is a moment that happens in early fall most years. The moment when, after three or four months of not wearing socks, it is time to put socks on again. And it is a bit sad but also a bit comforting, the feeling of protecting feet with something soft and warm for the first time in a long time. The act of transitioning to a new season, a change of gears, as signified by socks.

I’ve just come off a time of relative calm in my work life, transitioning into what looks like a busy time. It is a gear shifting. I didn’t want the moment to pass without note.

I have fluffy socks to pop and cushion my feet. I’m ready.

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