I think I'm done here. This afternoon I rounded out the structure
of my stories and realized I've accomplished as much as this retreat can
offer. Certainly, staying on and delving into the writing wouldn't
hurt, but the isolated concentration that I've been immersed in these
past 2 weeks has run its course. It's time to go home and mow the lawn,
pet the dogs and, most importantly, snuggle up to my wife.
New England October is rolling in with cold nights, slashing rain and leaves exploding in bright colors before tumbling from the trees. Summer's lush, long, warm days and chirping cicadas help me forget the impending seasonal change that brings the dark frozen branches of winter. But as soon as it gets cold, I start counting the days when spring will throw buds back on the trees and bring the birds home.
I survive by sticking my cold feet in the stove and focusing on my creative projects. The work I got done these past two weeks will be the backbone of my winter's writing while I wait longingly to hear the peepers in the creek.
New England October is rolling in with cold nights, slashing rain and leaves exploding in bright colors before tumbling from the trees. Summer's lush, long, warm days and chirping cicadas help me forget the impending seasonal change that brings the dark frozen branches of winter. But as soon as it gets cold, I start counting the days when spring will throw buds back on the trees and bring the birds home.
I survive by sticking my cold feet in the stove and focusing on my creative projects. The work I got done these past two weeks will be the backbone of my winter's writing while I wait longingly to hear the peepers in the creek.
No comments:
Post a Comment