empty

Haven't felt much like writing the last week or so. Yes, I've been busy but it's been more than that. Just haven't thought of anything to ponder or muse about besides the delineation of my days and no interest in writing about that again. I haven't been reading or commenting much on other blogs lately either.

I see the little yellow rumped warblers that arrived last week as they crowd into the birdbath and chitter and tweet in the trees.

Working late yesterday in the shop, my back to the open doors, intent on arranging the pieces on the kiln shelf, a faint call brought me out of my concentration.

Is that geese? I turn around and see the tail end of what had been a brilliant sunset. I move out to the open lot between me and my neighbor and look up in the darkening sky. Yes, there they are, two Vs of geese arrowing to the south, their calls drifting back to me on the wind.

My life seems so easy and mundane compared to some of the people whose blogs I read. Some are facing mortality, perhaps imminently; some struggle with depression, knowing intellectually their lives are good and yet are unable to open themselves to it; some have been turned upside down by unexpected divorce or repeatedly fight to keep an abuser out of their lives; some endure constant physical pain, some face grief every day at the sudden unexpected passing of a loved one and yet none of these people have sunk into a morass of self-pity. Their voices are bright and full of love and the beauty of life and humor. They inspire me and put to shame my puny complaints.

It's late and we are having salad for dinner. I gather up my flashlight and a bowl of water with ice floating in it and carry it out to the small garden, plucking lettuce and spinach leaves by torchlight. I noticed earlier in the day that the pole beans are starting to bloom.

My biggest complaint is no cash in this poor economy, my greatest challenge in these drought days is keeping the garden watered.

I haven't seen the majestic red shouldered hawk lately and wonder if it has moved on to a new territory.

My days are filled with making, working on one project or another...small not so arty things, small very arty things, some larger arty things, some small arty things that will become larger arty things; thinking, pondering, wondering what I am going to do with all these arty things when they are done. That bothers me less than it should I suppose because these arty things are my income. An opportunity to show and tell and sell is coming up the first weekend of December at the open house and studio sale at my friends the glassblowers which they host every year and so that is my most immediate goal.

Green is fading from the world, green fading into yellow, spring in reverse. The dormant fields are beginning their long sleep, the trees drawing their energy in to keep.