I didn’t want to write today. I felt empty. Down-in-the dumps. What’s the point? What do I have to say that anyone wants to hear.
I meditate. I read some of my book for book club. I read some of novel I wrote. I read some blogs. I discover a new blog through my link-up with Laurel’s Gratitude Monday. It’s “Mother of Nine.” Rather than inspired and gracious, I feel frustrated and jealous.
I feel even less motivated to write. Woe is me; I should make myself some Tear Water Tea.
I go outside to work on my water garden. Physical labor is what I need.
Each spring, I must re-level the pond edges. Winter freezes, thaws, heaves, and settles my creation. Water is the great revealer. Water seeps from the low spots. Water points out I am no longer near perfect in my creation.
I lug rocks and shovel dirt and check with my level. I am ready to fill up again. This year I will build a retaining wall in hopes of staving off winters damage.
I am hot. I am