I guess if there is any constant in my life, it is new beginnings. This blog–and this website–is another new beginning starting here late on a cold night on my back porch. I’ve been keeping a blog (in fact several blogs) since the first blogs made their way on to the web. I thought about just adding a link here to my old blog, but it just didn’t seen right. I feel, rightly or wrongly, that I was dragging my old posts along for a ride. My writing life more often centered around writing about writing than writing for the sake of myself and whatever thoughts and whatevers were spinning and churning around in my head. I just want to get back to writing for the sake of writing.
This whole new website is just me putting myself out there–past, present and future. And I want the future to be more like my past–more like the box in the basement that holds years of spiral notebooks, leather-bound journals, moleskins, napkins and whatever else was close at hand when the urge–and the need–to write caught up with me, which it always has.
I want to write and not worry. At the same time, I love being the curator of this amazingly blessed life that I have–a life that is as full of the mundane as much (if not way more) than the profound. I want to remember the cheeseburgers and chocolate frappes that I made for the kids today–a little treat for helping me clean the house, rake up alpaca crap, take down some fences, and just get ourselves–our lively unit of life–that much more ready for winter.
I am typing with fingers numb with a cold November clumsiness. Maisy wants to go in and looks at me from the curl of fur at my feet like there must be a better way.
But there’s not.
