#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

My wake-up time, it seems, is back to naturally early and this allows me to be out earlier into these jumbled and late springing woods. The wetlands are high and spread across trails where they can. The puddled overflow glorifies trees and a blue sky. Blossoms begin and shine in sunlight. Woodpeckers and songbirds are in the silence and the woods where I am walking alone with Charlie. Walking in satisfaction, reflecting on my full week, all the creative activity, the workshops and the writing abundance, not my own so much as all the writing being generated that comes my way. Frank’s bird boxes stand solidly in the meadow. In the afternoon I go out. Just up the street to the post office, wearing my mask, wearing a glove. Someone has purchased a copy of my book, Before You Forget: The Wisdom of Writing Diaries for Your Children, for a friend of hers who is expecting a child and I want to get it delivered to this couple. Driving is strange. The post office has one woman in line ahead of me, many feet away, also, she is wearing a mask. The clerks are behind plexiglass. I am in and out. My daughter who is expecting a baby still reads her copy of my book––sometimes I think she reads it as a kind of bible of stories, a family bible of storytelling, and this pleases me very much. If I had only written this book for her alone, this would be enough.

Bird box in the morning meadow