Sunday, June 25, 2006

A Matter of Perception 

Hilarity at home tonight after a long overnight up north with Darcie's family. The baby gives voice to a dozen animals or more, from a duck's honk to a bear's growl, but attributes to her elder sister the lion's breathy roar. Willow says that I am old, but Mama is "still new"; pressed, she cannot explain why.

When they sleep, I am restless, unwritten. The book outline was done two months ago. Sitting down to write the first few words has become herculean. Has it been talked out too soon, made moot by too much preemptive discourse on the subject?

Used to be I could recognize the moment, seize it. But then, that was when deadlines were imposed from outside, and writing was all that needed to be done. Now I struggle just to write the blog, let alone write about how it has changed my life.

Blank paper used to be a gift -- when did it become so heavy? I make a long list of home and landscape chores that need to be done this summer, from ant eradication to woodpath-clearing, and, having done something, turn to fiddlebrain pasttimes, far from the maddening page.

posted by boyhowdy | 8:43 PM |

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