Crossing the meadow this morning, every few steps I startled a yellow butterfly up from the grass and the clover. I tried so hard to follow them with my eyes and to creep close to get a picture when they landed. But they were up and off again. It was magical to be among so many butterflies flying spontaneously from flower to flower. It was a surprise party of butterflies and it lightened my spirits under the third or fourth day of clouds. And then a light rain fell across the field. Before I walked I woke early, excited to be starting the fourth year of leading my Farm Pond Writer’s Collective, and I put together all my plans and prompt and felt entirely prepared before heading out to my relaxing walk. And so, I felt I could really relax, take my time, and I felt free to watch the butterflies flit across the meadow. Our writer’s room was full, the writing and talking was rich and deep. Every writer read something from the prompt that interested and excited me. How grateful we all felt to be sharing this creative time together, telling truth and beauty: agreeing, the time to attend to our spirit and our writing lives each week is essential and cannot be squandered or turned away from by self-doubt.

All photos and text ©Kelly DuMar 2018