Here I am; up earlier than a sparrow’s fart. It’s colder in this house than it has any right to be – but at least it’s quiet.
I’ve bundled up in my house coat, slippers, and a big cotton blanket so that I can sit to write while my family is conveniently in their beds. All I need now is a warm cup of tea – but I honestly can’t be bothered to get out from under this blanket just yet.
I hope today I’ll get a chance to go to the library and write some more – extend the peace a bit. I’d go to a cafe or some such place, but the library seems less hipster and more academic somehow.
I’ve got it in my mind to try to write some more fiction here soon, but I haven’t yet come up with a starting point. I like my stories to grow organically. Perhaps if I set out to create a fiction novel someday, I’d take the time to create outlines, etc – but as for shorter stories I just need a starting point; a vague idea that I can let flow out of the tip of my pen. They just seem to turn out better that way.
Have you ever noticed the leaves fall? I know, it must be the early morning chill has made me wax poetic… I was thinking about it yesterday evening though. I stepped out onto the verandah of the double wide we are currently staying in, in the mountains of NC. The rustle of the leaves was noticeable in the breeze, so I glanced up to the tree line at the top of our hill and realised it wasn’t just the leaves rustling on the trees… it was masses of leaves falling at an angle, steadily flowing to the ground as their branches released them.
I was staring into the distance considering the fact that though I’ve lived in such woods before, I’d not recalled ever actually noticing the leaves fall.
“What’re you staring at?” My husband’s voice punctuated my thoughts.
“The leaves falling,” I said without immediately breaking my gaze.
He snorted and said something to the effect of “okaaaay” in clear bemusement.
Suddenly, my son noticed the leaves too. He started running and twirling down the drive with his hands in the air. Clearly displaying his five year old joy; laughing as he tried to catch just one leaf.
I couldn’t help but smile watching my little red head grinning and playing; I couldn’t help but wish I still had that wonder and child like joy.