October in bloom

When I think of October, I picture pumpkins and dried cornstalks. A nip in the air. Ghosts, goblins, and headstones. When I think of October, I do not think of clematis in bloom.

And yet, here we are.

Perfection isn’t perfect

I’m working on my revisions and mostly succeeding in ignoring the nasty voice in my head that says “this is crap” and “why even bother?”

What’s the key to my (mostly) success?

Remembering there’s no such thing as a perfect manuscript. Perfection is an unattainable ideal that just so happens to also be highly subjective.

From my perspective this purple coneflower is perfection. Flawed petals and all. I love it and have spent quite a bit of time gazing at its loveliness. However, your mileage may vary. And that’s okay.

Bunny Monday

I was at my front window doing quad stretches this morning when I realized I wasn’t alone. One of the many neighborhood bunnies was hunkered down in the vinca, showing an utter lack of concern for my presence.

Goal for today: no matter what arises I’ll try to maintain a chill bunny vibe.

Squirrel!

In honor of those who struggle to address life’s demands in an orderly fashion without getting distracted along the way . . .

Bunny hubris

As I hooped this morning, a bunny came into view. The furry beauty remained in that same spot, calmly chewing and staring into space, despite the fact that I spun and twirled nearby. And then Marcel, sensing something outside, jumped up in the window. The bunny casually glanced toward where the big white cat stared longingly, and immediately returned to her bunny business.

I’d like to emulate that self-confidence during this coming week. Me and the bunny, not overly concerned with matters outside our personal spheres.

Thankful Thursday

Sometimes the universe gifts you a tin filled with popcorn kernels. And sometimes the gift comes in the form of a writing project that transports you away from life’s challenges and makes your heart sing.

Today’s memory of yesterday

This morning we woke to six inches of snow on the deck railing. The yard was blanketed in white. Tree limbs and branches were layered with pristine fluff. And now? Much of that snow is already gone.

Yesterday is but today’s memory, and tomorrow is today’s dream.
~ Khalil Gibran