It's been raining off and on all day. Now the rain is falling steady and I can hear it pounding on the roof. Spring rain is a joy—you can feel and see all the buds and shoots just soaking up the moisture.
Sometimes I wonder what I am doing here in this Valley that is in some ways so behind the times. I wonder what I am doing at my keyboard. Am I writing? What will become of the bits and pieces of poems and stories I have scattered? Do they have any meaning? Will they sprout into more?
I can hear the birds chirping, along with the rain, outside my windows. My office is a sun room that we made into a space that was supposed to be just for me. But like so much at this time in my life, it has turned out not to be that way. Finding the time to write is not any harder than finding the time to actually think a complete thought, which sometimes is almost impossible. That tell you something about me and my life. Scattered is the best way to describe it.
Sometimes I have moments where I can see with clarity and have the space to explore it. Few and far between.
Still there is the rain. something to bring joy and flowers and green. Everywhere, the green.