Update coming

I know, I know.  I'm very behind on blog posts.  I know this because some of you have kindly let me know this fact.  And I love that you have.  Thanks for sticking with me through this dry spell.    You see, this whole moving thing has been about 100 times harder than I thought it was going to be.  Moving three kids and a cat to a place where they don't want to be is challenging.  Unpacking with the fear that you might have just made a big mistake makes the whole endeavor even more challenging.  Throw in the fact that I miss my friends and my town and my church and my job like crazy, and well, you have a depressed writer.  Which should have led to some amazing writing.  And, in fact, it did.  Just not in this space.  I've been doing some personal writing.  Some "I really hope to turn some of this into a book someday" writing.  It's not that I haven't thought of this space.  It's on my mind constantly.  I just haven't known what to say here or had the energy to say what I really want to say.  But with the fall of the first red leaf on the first cool day, I'm snapped back to the realization that I've missed this space too much to leave it silent any longer.  I need this space.  The space to clear my head and to share with the world (or no one at all) the small parts of my personal world.

So, I'm back.  Stay tuned.  Updates are coming.  I have an entire summer to fill you in on.  Until then, I leave you with this.  It is the first day of autumn after all.

The Beautiful Changes

BY RICHARD WILBUR

One wading a Fall meadow finds on all sides   

The Queen Anne’s Lace lying like lilies

On water; it glides

So from the walker, it turns

Dry grass to a lake, as the slightest shade of you   

Valleys my mind in fabulous blue Lucernes.

The beautiful changes as a forest is changed   

By a chameleon’s tuning his skin to it;   

As a mantis, arranged

On a green leaf, grows

Into it, makes the leaf leafier, and proves   

Any greenness is deeper than anyone knows.

Your hands hold roses always in a way that says   

They are not only yours; the beautiful changes   

In such kind ways,   

Wishing ever to sunder

Things and things’ selves for a second finding, to lose   

For a moment all that it touches back to wonder.