Day’s end

I’m sitting on the cliff, writing and listening to my world. A tractor goes down 7th line, a pair of goldfinches cheep and Twitter their way across the sky, a cow lows in the distance, leaves rustle in the breeze. The sun dips behind the pines, making it comfortably cool. I look up to see a cottontail rabbit under the magnolia and a hummingbird perch on a ranch above it.

It is so fucking perfect here. I don’t want to be anywhere else.

Slower

July has been about writing, swimming, gardening, breathing deeply and relaxing fully into the rhythm of this life we now have.

July’s word card from Hello Writer Mail is a good talisman for those moments when I can feel the anxiety at the edges and start getting wound up.

Drunken flotilla

A group of women of a certain age floated past my swimming spot, a flotilla of inner tubes, rafts, and small inflatable boats. Each had a beer, each had a laughing smile.

We talked back and forth until they floated away, their laughter echoing back to me as the river took them around a bend.

New career?

I’ve decided to give up brewing and try my hand as a cardboard farmer. I’m told that in only a few weeks, this will sprout little cake boxes and in a month they’ll grow to packing boxes!

(no, not really. I’m just trying one of the methods to get rid of goutweed)