. . . The sun drops.

The hut is done.

Now is the time.

Eagle rests on the aspen branch

Waiting to guide the visions 

floating up from her form 

lying on the pelt-covered floor. , ,

~ Excerpt from “Woven,” by Elizabeth Sheehan, Farm Pond Writer’s Collective

I was tired, lacking in imagination. I knew the trail from my house wouldn’t be ideal for skiing. But I didn’t feel like driving with my skis and the dogs across the river to ski there. I couldn’t imagine the trail would be nicer. Tiredness brings resistance. In any case, I let habit drive me where I needed to go. And I drove across the river, parked at Medfield State, let the dogs out and put on my skis and set off across the field and was immediately astonished, and grateful. The powdery snow was perfect. I knew I had made a wonderful choice to come here. I went straight for the open field and made my own tracks over the sun glittered snow, gliding happily along. I went for a fast and happy, long ski across the meadow, through the woods, along the river. The trails were perfect here. Good choice. And then, at home, I spent a very long time making a slide show into a movie, the pictures to capture our open readings last night. It was such a moving event, so special, I felt a strong desire to document it. My youngest usually does this job, when she comes. She takes the pictures for me. But she couldn’t come last night, so I took them. Then I had to figure out today how to put them into a movie I could share. And I didn’t have a photo of myself, since I was the photographer, and that’s why I put the picture of me diving into Farm Pond at the end of the video. And then tonight I opened an e-mail from Grace, a friend who came last night, and she sent me the loveliest picture of me. It won’t make it into the slide show, as I’m not going to re-do it. But I’m grateful to have it. Tonight, I am very tired from another busy day, craving rest and sleep. We planned my son’s birthday dinner for tonight. I asked him what he wanted for dessert: “Whoopie Pies?” he asked. A favorite from childhood. Haven’t made them in many months, or years. So, I baked those, and we had a special dinner, lingering in deep conversation for a long time at the table in the candlelight, flickering and reflecting on the glass doors.