they shouldn't be surprised.
we live in a part of the world where the landscape can kill you with only a breath. the air cracks in my lungs out on the porch when i step out to get the mail. and this is how it has always been.
this climate is not violent, though, really. it is a lack of violence, actually, when the earth settles and everything seizes. we are all clenched in a fist. everything has to wait.
the wilderness clutches inside itself something green and always knows the best time to unfurl it back into the world.
and in the meantime, i'll wait under covers with cups of tea and lots of work to do until it's time to wake up. to shake free.