#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Dried Flowers

Autumn is marching on: even the scarecrows are wearing dead leaves.
- Otsuyu Nakagawa

Yes, it was warmer and even grew summery late in the day; yet, the plants are dying all around me. It is hard to see them go. The yard, nothing is neat in it. This is November and I will grow accustomed to it. Also, on my bedroom couch for a week a pile of unfolded laundry. This doesn’t happen. It’s because the household last week was caring for sick one. Today I did two loads and dumped them on the pile! There is some kind of energy needed for me to tackle this job that I cannot summon. Perhaps writing about it will draw the mysterious energy up and into my hands. I took a shorter run and then a longer swim and began my day at my desk. Tonight, I made some time to tweak a poem I started a couple of weeks ago for workshop tomorrow. I think it’s better. Don’t know if it’s there. Frank and I had lunch together. Just drove out for a sandwich. I said, just like old times. Reminded me of when we had our counseling practice, early years of our marriage, offices next door to each other, the breaks we would take to grab coffee or lunch or a quick walk up to the CVS for mints or gum. Sweet times. Lasting.