Cars are driving into work while my husband is making his way toward Houston.
Snow too, is on its way. Perhaps it will be a light covering this time, unlike our last two, which left 10 inches and six inches before it left town.
Meanwhile, inside my home, and inside my skin, I’m feeling restless. I’ve this sense that I’m to do something, but I don’t know what. Am I forgetting something?
Some questions about the future of my writing are nagging me. I’m losing interest in the blog format, though I don’t have anything in mind to take its place, and I fear if I don’t keep at it, I won’t continue to practice. There’s just no clear path in front of me now — no sense of direction, like whether I should go this way or that — I’m just floating in air like that snow floating by my window.
And where did this snow come from? It wasn’t suppose to show up until this afternoon. But here I sit, trance-like before its beauty, while the urgency of earlier ‘whether’ questions melt away to be replaced by new ones.
I wonder whether this snow is our morning rain forecast in disguise — and if so, whether this means that our afternoon snow is still on its way?
Oh, what does it matter. Either way, I’m staying put. Questions will melt into answers in their own good time. And with chores done and no meals to prepare for ‘Honey’, I’m going to have a good time too. I’m going to watch a beautiful snow fall today. And as I get comfy in my favorite chair, perhaps I’ll think a little about life.
It’s funny on two counts(funny as in peculiar)
First it’s been snowing here a little all day and I am home because there wasn’t room on the coach.
Second, I woke in the middle of the night, distressed because I knew there was something I needed to do and didn’t know what it was. I think the shadow of a dream but maybe just anxiety.
Terry M. Clark said:
Most writing doesn’t have a clear path in front of us…the blog is a territory to explore, and discoveries written will lead to new paths. You are correct…if you stop writing, you won’t discover…
Two words. Cabin. Fever.
Saturday the sun came out for the first time in nearly three weeks. It was 66 degrees. The sky was blue, and the sun was shining. I heard a dove cooing.
I haven’t felt so energetic and happy since … well, I can’t remember.
My prescription is the freshest salads you can find, summer fruits and flowers. Maybe some good travel writing – Paul Theroux comes to mind. Or Annie Dillard.
And lookie what else I found!
Well the sky is blue and I no longer am. Snow has melted but questions remain. And it’s okay. I’ll live into answers.
Yesterday I received your short story. I sat down to read it and was surprised to find myself to the end — always a mark of a good story that it just pulls one along. Haven’t received the book yet, but I know it’s on its way — I received a shipping notification not too long ago.
Hope your side of the world is lighter too.
Aw shucks. I was hoping for a clear path eventually.
But I cozy up to the hope resting under your words that “discoveries will lead to new paths.” And so I’ll keep pressing on — pressing words on WordPress — and perhaps I’ll write into discoveries.
It does help to write and live expectantly though. And it does help to have a big beautiful blue sky today outside my window.
Thanks for your words.
Cabin fever? Well, maybe a little since the blueness of the sky has taken my own blueness away. But I think unanswered questions have weighed me down too.
But I did enjoy the Arron Copeland/Ansel Adams gift you left on my back porch. The Quaker tune grew up mightily in Copeland’s capable hands — and how did Adams capture the world in his images without shrinking It?
Of course, they were both masters at their trade — but something more masterful than they was afoot in their work.
May it be so with me… and my own simple gifts.
I’m glad the story got there ok. I also hope you will enjoy the book when it gets there!