Transition time

My new website is up and running and includes the first blog post for the new site. (https://writeonharlow.com/2019/02/22/lapis-for-love-for-friendship/) Take a look at the post and wander around the website–I’ll be adding more content over the next couple of weeks.

A kind person at WordPress migrated any followers who have signed up via email but those of you who follow me via Facebook will need to click on the link to the new site. And if you’d like to get email notification of new posts, click on the Follow button once you get to the new site.

Just for fun, here’s a picture of my new feline housemate, Mr. BellIMG_0365–I’m sure I’ll be writing about him on the new site!

 

 

Quick thoughts on a February morning

This will be the last post on this blog site but not the end to my blogging. I’m developing a new website and will be continuing to blog on that site. I’ll post the URL here as soon as the new site is ready for viewing.

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I’m sitting by the front window, 9:30 a.m. Sun again, blue sky, storm in the forecast. I’ve had my coffee, eaten some breakfast. Should I shower? Pull on jeans? Stay in my sweats to work? The essential questions of my work-at-home life.

I’m not sure what my writing work consists of these days. I’ve swooped into writing for quick hits and then flown off again. No deep dives. Shimmering in my brain, just at the periphery of mind-sight, is something about my sister’s fading and dying, something about ambiguous loss. Too soon? Maybe. Maybe not.

A friend called yesterday morning. She had an errand in town. Did I want to meet for lunch? A walk? Sure. We had lunch at a nearby cafe. I had breakfast for lunch, eggs scrambled just right with goat cheese, tomato, roasted garlic, kale, lick the plate clean food. Sun streamed in the windows. Outside, workers strolled by on lunch break from the construction project across the road; inside, the pleasure of good food and easy conversation with a long time friend.

After lunch we went for a walk near a stream and pond. We stuck to the road since we weren’t wearing boots and the trails were icy.  We remembered walks along those trails in times past and planned for more woodsy walks when the ice and snow melt.

We rounded off this “it feels like spring even though it’s not spring” excursion with a dairy farm visit and ice cream eaten at a picnic table with a view of fields, cows, hills.

If I were a diligent Instagram poster, I’d have recorded all these moments to post online thumb_IMG_0352but I didn’t—just a few pictures of the pond, the ice, the blue sky. Instead I use words to try to capture that feeling of sun (too soon for such warmth but oh so welcome), the squish of mud under foot as we walked to the picnic table, the sweet, cold ice cream bringing memories of summer evenings.

Sun now obscures the computer screen. I should pull down the shade but I love the warmth on my fingers and arms. The day stretches in front of me. What will I make of it?

 

About sunsets

I’ve set myself the task of photographing the sunset view from the end of my street at the beginning of each month this year. I’ll be posting these on Instagram (you can find me there @rvngrl89).

Here’s the January 1 sunset:

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And here is today’s:

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Finally, this poem from David Budbill:

WINTER: TONIGHT: SUNSET

Tonight at sunset walking on the snowy road,
my shoes crunching on the frozen gravel, first

through the woods, then out into the open fields
past a couple of trailers and some pickup trucks, I stop

and look at the sky. Suddenly: orange, red, pink, blue,
green, purple, yellow, gray, all at once and everywhere.

I pause in this moment at the beginning of my old age
and I say a prayer of gratitude for getting to this evening

a prayer for being here, today, now, alive
in this life, in this evening, under this sky.