#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Under the trestle bridge, morning

Wake unrefreshed. Kind of a January blah. The weather of morning not encouraging, not inviting. But it’s what there is. The house also without Wave. The house without anyone but myself, I realize, so there is quiet. My writing energy is dormant. I do some simple prep for the day and go out. Out has pockets of ice. Low light. Cold, but no freezing. The river black and white, fozen and not. Low clouds. I listen to a Jungian podcast but don’t get very engaged. Then I just walk in the quiet. January can be quite quiet. I have four client hours, and those give me energy. That’s so delightful. My creativity engaged and my empathy and my discernment engaged and listening is a very engaging practice. A plan for playing pickle outdoors on our court takes shape in the late afternoon instead of a nap. Will and Franci come and we play with the lights on outdoors in the cold. It’s about 40 degrees out. And we have a lot of fun. I love, love love playing outdoors after dark. The trees are presences. The dark behind them. Trees as good company. We laugh and have fun. Franci and Will beat us three games out of five. But they all say I play well with a lot of energy. Ha! Oh, January, you are a mystery. I’m trying to be patient with you.