I've been studying my cover photo for a while now, and it seems to me that it is more than just a photo of what is there that can be seen, more than just three white rocks stacked on a beach. It contains an important question about the future, about what happens long after the photographer has gone. What will happen to our pile of stones when the tide comes in? Will it topple or has the architect built this structure at a safe distance?
I don't know what will happen to these words that I stack here on the sand. They may prove safely distant, or they may be swallowed up by a rush of self-doubt. They may be here for a season. They may lose their balance and be scattered by the shoreline, or be hidden away under shifting sands. Perhaps someday, the tides of life will reclaim them.
Or maybe that's just a bunch of poetic, romantic nonsense. After all, this is just a blog.
I don't mind changing my old-school clocks, evn rhiugh my husband insists on having one in every room. They allow me to feel both superior and archaic when any of the youths of the family come by. Like looking up and instantly telling time is witchcraft or something.
How hard is it to make cream cheese? I was just complaining at the high cost of a tiny container of the stuff. Never thought about homemade. Now you got me thinking.
Cubby I don't seem to be writing. Just writing what is necessary to complete the daily streak requirements. Eventually that leads to feeling unfulfilled. And MBs lose a bit of their shine.
Sometimes I feel like a prisoner to those streaks! After reading your post, I just might take a break, too. We are going on a fall color trip next week. Maybe I'll do it then...I don't know. I'm finding I am not spending the time on my writing as I'd like to. So much is going on in RL, too, right now.
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