Just now, when I was going out with Sunday’s and Monday’s poetry postcards I found this on the outside of the door and thought it was worth a late-night photo.
I just love dots!
I said to myself, I will not plant beans and corn with so much industry another summer, but such seeds, if the seed is not lost, as sincerity, truth, simplicity, faith, innocence, and the like, and see if they will not grow in this soil, even with less toil and manurance, and sustain me, for surely it has not been exhausted for these crops. — Henry David Thoreau
When I saw it first, peeking over the village of Nassau, it was the most wonderful strawberry ice cream color… by the time I got to the next stopping place away from street and car lights it looked like this:
and, what I saw on my way to the mailbox this morning:
It’s true that when you’re expecting mail — good, fun mail — that it’s only a sad mailbox that has just a bill and an ad in it.
Well, I tell myself that the point of this, like other writing projects, is to get you writing on a daily basis so I’m doing that and it’s good. But in terms of sharing I’m feeling a little let down so I’m debating what to do.
Meanwhile I’m going to spend a little time beading this afternoon and then tonight: dinner in New Lebanon with the Delightful Gail Burns and Terry Plumb-Clark! What to wear, what to wear?
The price one pays for pursuing any profession or calling is an intimate knowledge of its ugly side.
