House of Grief
Earlier this year I visited the Winchester Mystery House in San Jose, California. Built by Sarah Winchester (1839-1922), the widow of William Winchester, heir to the Winchester rifle fortune, it’s famous for its staircases that lead nowhere and windows that look out onto brick walls just inches away. This house is an unwieldy affair. Any attempt to navigate it without a guide and you’re sure to get lost in its endless tangle of rooms and hallways that don’t align in any logical way. They just go on, and on
As I write this, we’re in the process of clearing snow dropped on our region by back-to-back storms. Of course, this is to be expected in early March.
But a week earlier I had allowed myself to be lulled into a false expectation that spring had all but arrived and settled in. There were days in February when temperatures were in the 40s, nipping at the heels of 50. Snow and ice were melting, and mud was emerging on gravel roads – a sure sign of spring.
To me, this is very much the season of “midwinter spring” that Eliot describes. It can seem as if we’re caught in an endless loop of winter one day, spring the next, then back to winter.Keep reading