#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

. . . Months ago the gigantic onion of a bulb

half above the soil

stuck out its green tongue

Amaryllis given to me on Christmas by a friend before the fire

and slowly, day by day,

the flower itself entered our world,

closed, like hands that captured a moth,

then open, as eyes open,

and the amaryllis, seeing us,

was somehow undiscouraged. . .

Excerpt from “Amaryllis,” BY CONNIE WANEK

Decided to swim instead of ski this morning, this very first day of the short month, February. It was February cold, really brisk, and the pool called to me. The snow will wait. Charlie will wait. He won’t be happy, but he’ll wait. I swam a mile and surprised myself that I felt like doing this; and I was happy I did. I had a client, and then spent a good amount of time doing something else I love to––prepping for workshop tonight and tomorrow. And then I went to a poetry workshop, a new one, small group with a poet I admire and I was really jazzed about how helpful and rewarding it was for my poems. Hopeful. Then, I went out with Charlie. He was just back from the groomer’s where I had left him and Suzi at lunch time. He hated it, it’s fair to say. He watched me shovel a path that had not yet been shoveled. The birds hovered at the bird feeder. The sky hung thick with a dull mood over my head. Then we walked to the river for a bit. Poor Charlie. Suzi’s mood was much improved; she loves being groomed. Charlie sulks and looks for treats. As I was driving on an errand today, I felt so strongly a need to see the color red. Of course, it’s here in the house, a presence that cannot be ignored; an energy I need to fill me.