If March came in like a lion, it was a big white fluffy snow cat with slush around the edges, one of those days when it is safer to walk than ride.
This photo was snapped on my way home from the Circle store. I am still in hibernation mode, rarely leaving my apartment building and then only to wander the streets of DoYo in search of provisions, to use an old west phrase. Coffee shops sell good beans. Circle sells bread, eggs, milk, cheese, assorted canned goods, everything to make a pot of chili except the beef. The only raw meat downtown is rolls of ground turkey or sausage. I’m so hungry for beef that I bought a can of Goya corned beef.
We really need some meat down here. I would love it if someone opened a combo butcher baker shop in downtown Youngstown. Yes, one little store selling raw meat and a variety of fresh baked breads.
Hey, why not?
If they can’t find a full fledge grocer willing to open a store downtown, why not aim for a small specialty shop? Meat would not have to be cut on site, bread can be baked elsewhere… add a deli case with roast beef and turkey and pastrami, maybe sell some sandwiches and packaged salads… it could make a go.
I think that’s the issue keeping plans and rumors of plans on hold… not enough residents living down here yet to warrant opening a real grocery store.
I’m just craving some beef and dreaming out loud. Guess a walk up to Martini’s for a burger will solve that problem. Thanks for reading!
It’s warm and snowing in D0Y0 (Downtown Youngstown) so I went for a walk in this wintry wonderland. The roads are a mess. Sometimes, it is safer to walk than ride. Unless, of course, your transportation is a human powered sled going down the same hill over and over again.
Best enjoy while you can as temps drop to insanely bitter cold again on Monday.
Thanks for reading!
The dollhouse is done and so I macrame, on to the next unfinished project, so many things left undone.
I am busying myself to ward off depression during the cold season, this seemingly endless winter that has settled into the bones of northeast Ohio. That groundhog lied when she predicted an early Spring. Even the calendar jests with the passing of the date. The sun shines on snow dusted lawns and I catch my frozen breath, the frosted smoke of hope waiting yet resting in the seeds planted indoors.
Surely the robins will come, how I long for their strut and the true sign of warmth return whence once again, my eyes spot a glimpse of a red winged blackbird. Butterflies, where are you my flightly friends? Alone in a gray town, endlessly awaiting your return.
Paper waits, already cut to frame size. When the warm breezes chases the endless chill away, I can take my paints and pencils back outside and make art on the porch again. When I feel warm and alive again, that is when I will make the art for the dollhouse.
Journey, the round painting that hangs on my wall, reminds me to stay the course, to continue living a creative life. It is not the best painting, but it is mine. It is a colorful, roughly textured ship’s wake on the darkest night, with a paint brush as an illusionary distant shore. Suppose not everyone gets it as the only time it was ever shown, they hung it wrong with the paint brush vertical instead of horizonal so I had to wiggle my way through the crowds and rotate it at the opening. More amusing than irritating as it made me smile.
This long winter is a journey and I must have faith in the journey’s end. Hope is a journey on an endless sea.
Thank you for reading!