I’ve often regarded my blog like a neglected project car out in the yard. Draped with a tarp. You mean to get to it, but it seems to just slide out of sight and mind. Writing has been my hobby car. People like it when they see it, and comment on how you should do something more with it. But I’ve only ever really torn back the tarp on sunny days, and warm ones at that. I’ve never before called myself a “writer.” When asked, I would say “I write.” But more recently, the urgency to spend more time plugged in has become more, well, urgent.
It’s been a rough year plunked smack down into the middle of my third most wonderful years ever. And I wanna write about it. ANd I wanna write about trees, and poetry, and art, and astrology, and culture, and, and…and….ANDD!!!!!
So I’m a writer. It feels good to try it on like a big ol’fluffy sweater that you are so grateful for when the cool drops.
So come along, follow me. Let’s see where this goes. 🙂