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| Ballast To Which I Cling |
The other day, the man who helps me with the garden and whatnot, asked who the prime minister of Canada was. I looked at him with envy. Oh, to be free. Not that I don't like our prime minister, rather, to not be news aware.
I read once that in these strange times, Pandora's Box is wide open. Aside from the strange goings on geopolitically, each of us also has personal challenges. How we meet these challenges is a test.
Gardening is the best therapy, I find. The former owner of where I live was a rose whisperer and left me with an amazing tree which is now in bloom. The beauty of it astounds me. In a way, it's a ballast to which I cling.
There is a writing workshop fast approaching, and I'm in preparation mode. More on that to come. For now though, I am hunkered down and madly writing in the summer heat, not only in preparation for the workshp, but because the only way to get to the page is to actually do so. Back, I believe, with more in October. Don't give up on me. Am still here. Sort of.