The real me is the woman in this window, manual typewriter in front of her but holding a pencil posed over paper. Deer nibble at shrubbery on snow-covered lawn, fodder both for her writing and for her life.
Or are they the same thing?
[Picture by illustrator Adrianne Blair in Faith Baldwin's Face Toward the Spring.]
Monday, January 27, 2014
Crossing a Little Bridge
"Almost every day of our lives we cross a little bridge
(and sometimes…we burn it behind us),
a bridge usually of adjustment from
one situation to another."
What's a former blogger to do?
The first week or so of burning my blogging bridge at Across the Way [here]behind me, my freedom was heady.
All those hours freed up to do other things.
The days sped by and then, strangely enough, they began to creep.
January blahs set in, but was January at fault?
Days passed and I became bluer and bluer.
Had I built my new bridge too narrow?
I thought about blogging again but on a simpler basis.
Creating for my own personal interest. Out of the blogging loop.