#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Beech days

She stands
In tattered gold
Tossing bits of amber
And jade, jewels of a year grown old:
November.
~Zephyr Ware Tarver

It has to be a short walk today; it’s pleasantly November. The biggest news of the woods is still the glowing beech leaves. I stand under the branches and soak up the light. Another momentous thing happens today: the mountain of laundry is folded and put away! What sweet accomplishment. The house is busy with Frank’s office colleagues. In a nice way. I prepare for tonight’s open mic that I will host for the Journal of Expressive Writing, with my guest Fleda Brown, reading from her new collection of essays, Mortality with Friends. And, after dinner, I am so happy to be online with this event, hearing Fleda, and everyone in the open mic. It’s a very nice crowd, and I feel warmed and grateful to be sharing this evening with writers.

“I have become an emblem. I have become all that has been imaged about me. . . When the children and grandchildren think of the lake. . . I am not myself, but symbolic of the lake, of grandmother, the link to various private memories.”

~ Fleda Brown