#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
After the sun warms the chokecherry blooms up a little in the morning I have been delighted by their fragrance wafting through the air. I love to take a deep breath and savor the aroma of their blooms which has a slight hint of honey to it. The scent is heady, delicious, and it tickles my olfactory senses. I know I don’t have long to savor the smell of the chokecherry blooms.
Yes, the sun has warmed the chokecherry blossoms all through my morning walk. It’s like walking through a wedding in the woods, the white frills, the overpowering scent. For me, they smell like licorice, or anise. They are thickly abundant on every trail, fluffy and freshly opened. I walked early and sprayed myself well to keep off the mosquitos. I wanted to get to my desk early, and I did, just after my walk. I went right to work on a revision of a couple of poems I’m submitting. I’m trying to get poems out for consideration as I haven’t sent any in so long. I opened, then, a poem I wrote in draft two weeks ago for Thursday workshop, and dove in, with so much doubt. Something about it hooked me, but I also just felt I had no idea at all why I was working on this and felt it wasn’t working. I chipped away, doubting, doubting, but not stopping as I needed to get it in for tonight by 3:00. Broke for lunch, thought I should just send it, but instead, worked on it more. Finally, sent it off, feeling a bit silly as I didn’t feel it was working or worthwhile. This was a great lesson for me. Because it was praised and appreciated highly in workshop tonight. I need to think more about this aspect of my process, of what happened with this poem on the page versus what happened in my head, the voice that kept telling me to junk it. The garden is producing tomatoes and tomatoes and tomatoes. I must share some tomorrow. My pumpkins are blossoming, and the early small ones are shapely and fine; I think I may have to harvest this beauties soon. I wish I could keep them on the vine at least until September. And the sweet potatoes that the groundhog chewed all seem to be reviving somehow. For the first time today as I walked I felt: August.