#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Wonderful rain. I go out eagerly with Charlie. I have a busy day and I walk toward the river across the wet meadow thinking we will not stay out long. But the foliage is seductive. The river is colorfully drenched and appealing. Everywhere I look is spectacle. I keep going. I am taking it so slow. I have so much to see and appreciate. We get soaked, and happily so. It’s warmly inviting. We cross the river over the trestle and go into the wide open meadow. I forget so many things in the meadow. I just want to see everything. There is a day, maybe two, in autumn in New England, where the landscape is ecstatic. Today is one. The milkweed in the red leaves, pods like wings of birds. The yellow berries making wreaths in bushes and vines. The trees reflecting deep bruisy colors of light and dark on the surface of the Charles. I forget there is a baby to be born or work to be done, I am in the field of wet, bent stalks of Queen Anne’s Lace surrounded by lit up trees. We keep getting wetter and I rub Charlie dry with a towel before we go in. I get both my groups coming up this week prepped and ready. I read the wonderful rite of passage stories posted by the participants in my How Pictures Heal course. I make a nice dinner, we sit by the fire, I go to an IWWG Board Meeting and then run my monthly critique group: more lovely writing and sharing. I hardly see my daughter today, we get a few minutes here and there to check in. Everyone in the house is busy today and the rain, so necessary and desirable, pleasantly falls through the day. My son, my first born, he took his time, his own sweet time.