I walked the dog and beat the rain home. That’s no small victory.
Sometimes, while I’m walking the dog or driving the car, the maelstrom of words in my head coalesce into some sort of communicable formation. I stride to the kettle then, eager to brew a coffee and regale you with my wit and insight. There are days when I almost reach for a second mug, so sure am I that you are there in the corner chair.
I don’t see a screen those days. I see you spreading jam on your scone.
I don’t hear the keys click those days. I hear you say, ‘you know the way…’
Other days, lately, I tap tap tap and see myself reflected back in tiny words.
Teenage Daughter thinks it’s time to take her school art project off the hall table. I am steadfastly refusing.
My blogging achievement this week was taking a new ‘shelfie’ for my blog header. Scroll back up there and revel for a moment in all that Autumnal bounty.
The hedgerows are wonderful at the moment, teeming with chirruping birds and laden with hips, haws and berries. It’s like a mad grand finale to the summer with all the stars taking a final bow. I walk along the path like the Queen meeting the cast, nodding and muttering ‘jolly good show.’
And the words flutter in the wind and fall about me.
I laid out some pickings on the chess board, thinking I might attempt an arty flat-lay photograph.
I was even contemplating running upstairs for Granny’s vintage (aka useless) scissors. They always have vintage scissors in those pictures, don’t they? And die-cast cars and marbles. Anyway, the dog pointed to the futility of my artistic notions.
I plonked back into an armchair, flat-lay-less and wordless.
I have been staring at a flashing cursor for
five ten fifteen minutes now. Time to stop.