May 26, 2022
Keith just reminded me that I hadn’t written a post in a while. I thought I had done so, but sure enough as I looked back, I really haven’t written lately. I can only guess at why not, because I surely can’t remember why I hadn’t done so. Perhaps it is because the days seem to pass swiftly and repetitively. It is now definitely Spring here, with the brightest greens of the trees and grasses; the birds nesting and singing. I’ve always loved this season because it was so full of life and expectations of the warm season approaching: long warm days to sit on the porch, listen to the birds, and come across new life hidden in the tall grasses on our hills, as well as warm summer nights with skies filled with the brightest stars.
However as I’ve aged, I seem to have lost some of that joy and anticipation: especially as my memory seems to be tanking. As I’ve written before, it is somewhat oddly fascinating to me that I am unable to clearly recall so many pieces of my past, which now appear to me as vague gossamer pieces of my life; floating in and out of my mind, scrambled and unclear.
I very rarely read my past journal writings, because of those few times that I have, I’ve been sorry I did. I don’t need to be reminded where I was, and when. But I do keep writing because I think my thoughts and experiences are of some value.
Well, now that “I have written” I’m going to stop and enjoy a cup of coffee as I watch the coming
rainstorms begin to form. I love to hear and see the rain patter and splash. I love to think of the plants quenching their thirst, the birds preening their wings and the earth being refreshed. Life is good in my ‘neck of the woods.’