#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
Snowy brook, like a mountain range
No, I didn’t mind the drenching. I was wearing a knit hat and a raincoat with a hood. I went out early into the rain because it was raining. The special package nestling into my chest in a pack also did not mind the drenching. But, just to be sure, I removed my knit cap and covered my package with an extra layer of dry. The river was milky with melting snow and ice. The river splashed and splashed. It was pleasantly mild, the temperature. I listened to the rain for awhile, and then the Plath biography which is in the exciting months of Sylvia’s marriage to Ted Hughes. Intense, dramatic, and dynamic. Then I went in to a busy, productive, satisfying day. I finished two poems from letters, and so I met my goal and now begin another: three by next week as well. I’m glad for my accountability to myself. And then, after tweaking and tweaking, I sent off the new weather photo and text assemblage to the journal where I hope it will be published, and this was excellently satisfying as well. I did board committee work and sent off a draft of a proposal for funding a new program. I made chicken marsala for my husband and daughter and prepped for the Farm Pond Writers and met with a writing client after dinner. Now I am listening to the wind, its howl in the soaking dark, sheltered from my indoors. And, I had forgotten the date. Of my father’s death, five years ago today. My sister texted us, my sibs and I, and reminded us and sent a picture of him holding a great grandchild. And I miss him.
