It's Raining, It's Pouring

It's raining; it's pouring, the old man is snoring....

And, yes, the rain still falls from the sky. It drops gently, drizzles, pours, tumbles from the sky.

A few hours of sunshine get tucked in here and there, just enough to tease of better days to come.

And, my poor pots, wait for their next coat of paint. It's been nearly two weeks since I began breathing some new life into them. I think they'll still be waiting another few days.

The pots began as a way to bring in color to our tiny garden, splashes of color that just aren't found in extremely shady yards.
Color, it seems, needs sunshine, and truth be told, so do I.

I seem to go into some sort of lethargic trance on these gray gloomy days; not overly sad, not even a little sad, just utterly lazy.

I tend to nestle under my covers, cup of coffee or tea on my bedside table, and devour light hearted mysteries; you know the kind - the ones set in coffee shops, bakeries, etc. Predictable, comfortable mysteries that don't require me to think much.

In between chapters of who done its, I mentally write, lists of words that tease and delight me. Childhood memories. Crazy and/or imaginative things the twits - aka, grandsons - have done. Thoughts about farmers' markets and lunches with friends. The craziness of subbing.

All of these, written in my mind; but, I've struggled to discipline myself to sit at this keyboard.

I believe, I know that anything takes practice, whether it's my writing, my photography, or my art. Creativity requires me to show up and do the work; it's as simple as that.

I know this, but I still struggle to establish the habit, to find my rhythm.

So, I've made myself a promise, and that's to write something each day. I suspect most of it will be mundane, but out of all of it just might come a few gems. And, even if the gems remain buried for the time being, I'll be strengthening some rusting skills. I'm aiming to do it each and every day, hoping for 500 words or more.

These 500 words might come in one fell swoop (and now my mind is wondering how that expression originated...Google, here I come!) or they might come in bits and pieces. I started to type that I just need them to come, but I realize it's more that I need to write them. They won't magically appear on this screen or on paper by themselves.

The funny thing is, that once I get myself to this keyboard, I love it. I love the process; I love playing with words. I'm a bit of a nerd that way. I love a good dictionary, a good thesaurus. I love to mind map my thoughts and see where they take me.

We all have so many untold stories, and I think I worry, as do a lot of people, that I need an "exciting" topic. It's just another excuse, I'm realizing, because as I wander through blogs on any given day, it's the small and ordinary lives of online friends that delight me.

Not the " I have a perfect life" stories, but the stories of people tending sheep, figuring out how to keep a wedding theirs. They're stories of gardening triumphs, crazy border collies, and people adjust to new financial realities, but managing to keep the joy in their lives, no matter what. They're stories of dairy farmers, cats that appear on pot holders, and more.

I love them all.

It's time to write - here, I go!

P.S. To all my Creative Bedlam Farm group friends, please nag me if I begin to slack off, okay? I'm thinking I need some accountability here.