I didn’t get to enjoy June’s entrance thanks to a flu that knocked me down for a week. Able to (somewhat) function today, I made it outside to see that most of my lilac is on the ground and I missed the bloom of the alliums.
So, I did what any rational flu-recovering individual would do: I grabbed my camera to stand in the drizzling rain in order to capture the last bit of spring.
I had to force myself out of bed this morning to go for a walk. I was late, so it turned out to be a short one but I was rewarded for my newfound commitment with the beauty of the rising sun reflecting in the bay, colourful tulip gardens, and blossoming trees along my favourite path.
I returned to my house only to be slapped from my reverie with some good ole teenage snark. Thankfully, contentment was restored when my husband and I had an in-depth chat about a novel idea that I’ve been working on for a few months. After twenty minutes of lobbing story possibilities back and forth, I was ready to hit my desk and power out character sketches, scene ideas and a blog post.
But, then I checked the news.
I clicked on a video that brought tears to my eyes. Horrific human behaviour. What is happening?
There’s a heaviness now; my words are buried under sorrow, disbelief, and confusion. Optimism will return soon, I’m sure, but I’m having a hard time writing through the headlines lately.