Glorious Day

What a glorious day. Here I sit, outside in my back yard, enjoying clear skies, a warm, 72 degree breeze and the sun on my back. It is Mother Nature's deception because I know an arctic front is back there, behind me, moving in within the next thirty-six hours.  I won't enjoy another day like this for at least two weeks, maybe longer. So I will glory in today.

I am in my "mobile writing" mode. This means my barefoot self and all my nifty technological gadgets are parked in a chair outside on the patio. I still find it hard to believe this is possible. I have an iPad which wirelessly connects to the network inside my house and a Bluetooth keyboard which wirelessly connects to my iPad so I can type with all my fingers on the keys. Just how spoiled am I?

The only hitch is that Blogger will not operate in compose mode on my iPad. In English, this means I have to type this text into another program, then cut and paste it into Blogger. There is an update I can download that will eliminate this step, but that would mean I would have to go inside, connect to my desktop computer and figure out how to do it. My brain would totally go into "business" mode and I would lose the feelings that I am experiencing outside. So I will worry about technology later.

Even the mild winter we have here in Texas has taken its toll on the back yard. The grass is brown and, except for the live oaks, the tress are bare. My herb garden still shows signs of life and there is a dormant crop of sweet pea waiting for spring to signal that it is time to shoot up and bloom. I love this old-fashioned flower. My grandmother always grew sweet pea on the fence surrounding her chicken yard. Every spring day was filled with their unmistakable fragrance (the flowers, not the chickens,) both inside and outside, so just a whiff takes me back there. They don't like the heat so as soon as summer begins to encroach, they are done. That is why you have to plant them in the fall to get their roots established before it gets cold. Unless you have a really cold winter with snow or ice, they will not freeze but just go dormant at about eight to ten inches in height. Then when the warm sun comes, they grow rapidly and bloom very early, a welcome sight after winter. 

If you've been keeping up, you may realize that this talk about the coming storm seems in conflict with my views on "Winter Envy." But there I concluded that my adult self doesn't really like the cold and snow too much; it is my child self that wants to sled down the hill and make snow men. But today my adult self is happy and content. I can overlook the brown leaves everywhere, including those lying in rain puddles that have collected in the pool cover, producing some kind of primordial ooze. Even those look rather nice today in the sunshine. 

When I close my eyes, lean my head back and listen, this is what I hear: the flapping of the plastic door of the greenhouse behind me; the music produced by three sets of wind chimes in my "bling tree;" a motorcycle roaring down Ranch Road 12; the hum of the pool equipment, purifying the unseen water beneath the cover; the crunch of the leaves beneath my dogs' paws as they race across the yard on squirrel patrol -- again; dogs barking in the distance; birds conversing with each other -- animal voices, but no people voices anywhere. 

The Bling Tree

The back door is open, pulling some fresh air into the house and bringing back with it the smell of the beef short ribs in red wine that are slowly braising in the oven. That will be a fitting end to this glorious day. I wish you could join me.

Just Do It

"Some day I am going to write a novel." 

These words are spoken by most lovers of reading, books and language, and I am no exception. Oh, I have written for years as part of my job. I can write a clear and concise business letter or news story better than most. My advertorial copy for a worthy foundation can make you want to whip out your checkbook and donate right away, but where is my voice? 

I've prepared for "writing my novel" my whole life. I've done all the things that successful writers recommend, particularly reading good books. James Michener always asked aspiring writers what they were reading. "How can you expect be a great writer if you are not a reader of great books?" Advice I have taken to heart and always will. But for the last year or so, I have become more and more disenchanted with writing for others and more compelled to write for myself. Author Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones (a gem filled with practical advice and exercises) tells you to just do it. Write. Write every day. Write about anything. Write what you know and write about things that scare you and push your boundaries. Just do it and you will hear your voice and it will become stronger. 

As if that wasn't enough of a push, I recently reconnected with a dear friend after losing touch over the years. She writes her own blog, www.velvetsacks.blogspot.com, which I am reading and feeling, once again, the power of written words to bring us together. She has been so supportive and encouraging of my writing a blog that I am having trouble thinking of excuses not to do it anymore. 

So, here it is. I am taking the first step of an adventure. That orange button at the bottom of this page, Publish Post, is daring me to click it. Do I have the courage?