living long

I put those hydrangeas from yesterday's thank-you vlog to good use (here and elsewhere) and deeply enjoyed having our friends John and Andra join us (and my husband's world-traveling, coffee-farm-managing Salvadoran mother) for an evening beneath the sweetened skies.

I may be writing and reading at an old snail's pace these days.  But I am living long.  And that counts, too.

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When the wait begins

We do our work, as writers.  We labor past ourselves.  We beseech:  Get it right, keep it interesting, write it better, change her name but not her purpose. 

At one point, it is not our decision anymore.

That is the then of waiting.

The walking of the garden.

Hydrangea in bloom.

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