I am so behind. At this time of the year, I bring home more paperwork than at any other time of the school year. I’ve always believed the work one gets to bring home and think about close to 24-7 is what distinguishes “job” from career.” So, because I have at least one paid career (in addition to my writing, which I don’t consider a career just yet; then there’s mothering, household CEO and CCBW, a.k.a. Chief Cook and Bottle Washer; wife, laundress, etc, etc and so forth), I’ll forgive myself for falling behind on my blogging (this once, anyway).
Lucky for me my career insanity is always in the spring, my absolute favorite of the seasons. Lame or cliche’ as it sounds, spring really does make my heart sing. There are few things I love more than being able to wake when it’s already light outdoors, and to go for my exercise/meditation/prayer walk at 6 AM when the dog-walkers outnumber the cars driving by. (I’ve made a canine friend or two as well!)
Several years ago my husband and I purchased a cottage about three hours away from my home. Built on an old Christian campground situated in the woods, we have access to it year round, but really use it only six months because the pipes supplying water are too superficial to not freeze during the winter months. This translates into having running water from mid-April through mid-October, which means during our travels we get to watch nature as it moves through three seasons.
Summer is always gorgeous but pretty consistent in its green. Fall is positively glorious in its array of golds, oranges, browns, reds, maroons, yellows and even some shades of purple. Spring is traditionally known for its pinks, lilacs and paler greens. What caught my attention, however, on one of our spring trips out there, were the very, very early spring colors. I was surprised at how many paler versions of fall colors I saw.
That took my thoughts in a totally different direction, to a workshop given by Jane Porter (www.janeporter.com) who opened her talk by stating that the beginning of a book should always point to the ending. Some books are absolutely blatant in that. Peruse the opening of Phillippa Gregory’s The Other Boleyn Girl as an excellent example of such. And everywhere in nature I happen to look, I see other ready illustrations, ranging from as relatively simple as the life cycle of a leaf to as complex as the stages of a human life.
Which brings me back to the beginning of this blog entry–getting back to my paperwork as the school year circles to another close, bringing me back to the summer days when I can focus on getting my current manuscript done!