#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Charles River October Green

"She had only to stand in the orchard, to put her hand on a little crab tree and look up at the apples, to make you feel the goodness of planting and tending and harvesting at last."
-  Willa Cather

“ . . . To be home

is to go somewhere, is velocity,
the same urgent comfort

of your name. You’ll lack nothing,
child, and I will never let you go.”

~ Excerpt from “Hearth,” Brenda Shaughnessy

An early waking into a busy morning. I finish preparing my How Pictures Heal course, week five, to post. I finish prepping my Farm Pond Writer’s Collective workshop on Zoom, live, for this morning. I do not make my bed, for once, and just go out into he overcast wet of a past-peak mood of the River, a settling color, almost melancholy, but rich and deep and life-giving. All the leaves keep giving and giving they don’t want to be gone yet. They will be seen. They will be acknowledged. They will be appreciated. I give thanks for the earth in all its seasons. I am all in, spirit of October. Thanks to the clingers and the fallen and the ones who are drowning and gone to be remade. There is a mood in me that is tired and a mood in me that is ferocious and a mood in me that is generous and a mood in me that is fecund and forceful with confidence. And a mood in me that is melancholy with the bliss and joy of change: bring on the new, grieve the old, a moment is here to accept. Now. Now. Now. You have no better idea than what is here, now, I say to myself. It’s a wonderful Farm Pond Writer’s group, this sacred circle of women writing together. The prompt is the color of freedom. Every imagination is fired. I like to be in the boil, the carroty soup of this cauldron.