#288
Someone needs to invent a fly vacuum, something that just
sucks them all up and gets them out of my face.
I'm sitting in a metaphor right now, I know I am. I am sitting in a beautiful place with sun
soaking into an old mill room that is now a restaurant. We are by a river and just below a water fall
and the light is reflecting in large white moving blotches past golden leaves; grapevines that have half turned that golden
yellow, some still green leaves and others brown wilted, the grapes have been ingested
by the bird life and a few evergreens stand tall in dark green shadows. It is perfect. But I am surrounded, surrounded by flies, at
least twenty of them are in my sight. I
sit here in this perfect temperature and perfect light, that October yellow
light that shines down and blends all of the maroons and browns and oranges
together, that creates patterned contrasts on tree bark across the woods. It is high noon and the sky is blue, but
every three seconds a fly lands on me.
It is a metaphor for my life at the moment.
I must admit I am terribly sad about not being able to go to the conference in Carlsbad this year. I was hoping I would be able to take that trip across country and spend time in an environment where I could just be an original mother with other original mothers. I hope by next year I'll be able to do it. Meanwhile, those of you who go, send me pictures. I'm looking forward to hearing stories. Maybe next year we can do a presentation on the book. That is a very good goal. Let's make that happen.
I find it difficult to continue to write every day. I suppose I haven't been brilliant at it this week. I have been out most nights, home late, and a little tired of writing. I have done a lot of writing. But the photographs have been so much fun to take this week that I have been swept away by them and not thinking large profound thoughts or writing poignant poetry.
Your pictures tell a story. You do not always have to use words.
ReplyDelete