Seasons Change
I love May. My surroundings change so much--from mud and dirty and lingering snow to green, out-of-control grass and budding birches.
I also hate May. I get really grouchy. It's hayfever season--merely annoying to me but seriously annoying to my husband until all the trees quit dropping pollen everywhere.
Mostly, it's just that May brings change. Between-ness is uncomfortable to me. Even though I'm celebrating the fact that I finished a lot of work (and some recent visible publications! bonus!) this winter, I still didn't do everything I wanted.
So I've been struggling a bit--trying to get out from under layers, like the ones below that kept me company yesterday as evening fell.
Summer is just...different.
For one thing, we're outdoors more of the time--but never, it seems, enough.
Most important, my energy for writing and revising is different, so it's time to change projects. New writing is stirring--I can almost feel it in my palms. It's exciting.
So I put away the remnants of the projects from the winter and spring I didn't quite get to and try to focus on what I did finish.
And I'm (still, always) listening--to new voices, to long-ignored voices, to new-to-me-voices, to inner voices, to the voices of this beautiful, beautiful world.
I also hate May. I get really grouchy. It's hayfever season--merely annoying to me but seriously annoying to my husband until all the trees quit dropping pollen everywhere.
Mostly, it's just that May brings change. Between-ness is uncomfortable to me. Even though I'm celebrating the fact that I finished a lot of work (and some recent visible publications! bonus!) this winter, I still didn't do everything I wanted.
So I've been struggling a bit--trying to get out from under layers, like the ones below that kept me company yesterday as evening fell.
Summer is just...different.
For one thing, we're outdoors more of the time--but never, it seems, enough.
Most important, my energy for writing and revising is different, so it's time to change projects. New writing is stirring--I can almost feel it in my palms. It's exciting.
So I put away the remnants of the projects from the winter and spring I didn't quite get to and try to focus on what I did finish.
And I'm (still, always) listening--to new voices, to long-ignored voices, to new-to-me-voices, to inner voices, to the voices of this beautiful, beautiful world.