#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Frost, frost frost. I am up early, and the light of day comes up, and the tops of the trees, the evergreens, outside my window as I begin the day are frosted. Somehow, I am surprised. And yet, it is still March, of course. Winding down to the very end. One of my readers, you out there, wrote me today about yesterday’s blog, my last line, and how you thought to use it as a writing prompt. Which made me take a second look, and I saw that it’s a line I think I need for the poem I’m working on. Or, some version of it. And I was grateful. Am grateful. I swam heartily and walked Charlie to the river, around the trail, a short walk, over the frosty wintered leaves. No ice, but certainly, the wetlands seemed to be considering making some more before full embracing spring. I had my Wednesday morning writers, my hybrid of in-person/online, and it’s evolved to be mostly members online. But I did have two writers come and I so enjoyed making the coffee tray with treats and carrying it upstairs to the group room––fond memories of Wednesday mornings, weekly, for so many good years, at my friend Liz’s house when I would arrive early and find her in the kitchen, and we’d make the coffee and carry it up her stairs to the writing studio over Farm Pond, and the writers would come and we would have such friendly and fun and serious and productive and beautiful and creative sessions. And we still do! This morning was quite deep. So intimate. Yes, even with a combination of in person and online. I am grateful for all the time we had on Farm Pond, and grateful for the collaboration with Liz, and for the gifts that keep on giving, even in change.