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