I wrote all the time. Now, not so much. Words, words, where have you gone? Is it just this winter and my good mood slipping? My positive frame of mind's gone sour. I can't find a poem. If held to this place long enough, won't the words find their way under the snow to bring the violets, johnny jump ups and daffodils?
Once there was a witch named Tilly. And once there was a girl named Canada. And once there was a child who walked to a mountain to talk to a Sky God in Kenden Rush. Those are bits of novels I've written. Not to mention Manny and Beth and a book about 13 moons.
I await the transit of words. Meanwhile, there are spinning wheels and looms and in the season of gardens, there will be herb patches and fruit trees and dandelion wine recipes.
As well as star charts and the poetry of numbers.
Speaking of -- I finished a numerology chart today for a friend. And it occurred to me there is no need to simply tell what it means. I need to show her how to read it for herself. It's the only way it's going to matter.
Honey is busy crafting a triangle loom. It's lovely. If I could remember how to put pictures on here, I'd post a pic of it. He also made a scarf loom which he gave me for Valentine's Day.
Evening is coming now and I've got evening things to do. Tonight is hearthfire night and I'll find my motivation. I might even find a few words rolling up the hill backwards.
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