40F at 9am, mostly cloudy, with glimpses of the sun, with light wind. Icicles drip from the rafters as the cloud clears into wisps by noon and the snow shrivels slowly into the grass. Farmers clear piles of slush out of their gulleys with back hoes. 48F at 1.30pm.
Scrolling through back issues of Brain Pickings this week, I stumbled upon the post entitled “How To Avoid Work” and read it with interest. My eye lingered on one quotation in the article: “Your life is too short and too valuable to fritter away in work”. The artist in me agrees with this sentiment but my other half is too pragmatic not to find it irksome. Frequently paired with this idea is the notion of only “doing what you love” and the pursuit of this idyll. Because Upstate Dispatch is devoted to the city folk who are making the country their home and their business, I decided to ask the question: what is work?