“The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day." - Robert Frost
A grumbling start to the day; for no good reason, I didn’t sleep well, I’m out of sorts. I walk into the spring sunshine, trying to discipline myself to cheerfulness. For some moments I am successful. I am missing the quickening, fascinating presence of the shorebirds; the ones, the herons and egrets, that let me get near, the ones like the sandpipers that ran charmingly away. The laughing gulls and piping plovers, and the pelicans fishing the gulf.
I spend some time on the post card poems, hoping I am making progress with my revisions; have not added anything new, but have revised the point of view from first person to second person and will see how this works. Still, throughout the day there is a low rumble of discontent, and tiredness that I listen to and alternately try to ignore. In any case, I sit in my seat and work. That’s what I choose. To decide to let my resistance and discontent have its say and just keep working on my creative work no matter what. Later in the day, my youngest comes home for the night, and I get out of myself a bit to nurture her a little bit. She invites her sister and her fiance to dinner, and it’s a nice surprise, to have dinner, the three children in the house and my husband making dinner for us all. A birthday for the youngest is coming next week, and, on my walk, I remembered walking, that early April, overtired and impatient and grumbly when she was coming due, and I was also chasing around and caring for the older two. Such a wonderful cheerful happy lucky event: to have an April baby; the sweet last days of carrying a baby about to be born.