#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Late afternoon pussy willow

Because there is too much to say
Because I have nothing to say
Because I don't know what to say
Because everything has been said
Because it hurts too much to say
What can I say what can I say
Something is stuck in my throat . . .

~ Excerpt from Toi Derricotte, “Why I Don’t Write About George Floyd”

Hard to wake up; late. And, outdoors, it was pleasant, and I was tired, and the landscape was brown, and in the woods there is very little, as yet, to see that is changing. I took no picture. But was glad I went out. It wasn’t until the late afternoon that I went out, again, and there was lovely sunshine and a cloudless sky, and the silver pussy willow is coming undone in that gorgeous whitish, golden shedding of its fur. Today I walked to the neighbor’s houses before the pussy willow with invitations to the children to come for an Easter Egg hunt in the field on Saturday. Frank is so excited to be putting this on. We will wear masks, and keep our distance. And he has promised to help me fill all the eggs and hide them. There are so many children in our cul de sac now, it’s fun to be involved with them. And a dear friend’s husband turned sixty, so I Frank and I made him a huge ceramic pot of pansies and lavender and dropped it off with a virtual hug and promised a true celebration when we can go back to a restaurant together. I’m so excited to know so many people who are getting vaccinated, but also, cautiously optimistic, as the warnings about a fourth surge may be coming to the Northeast. The trial of Derek Chauvin for George Floyd’s murder is so disturbing, difficult to watch, heart-wrenching and necessary to experience.