It’s August 1st and as per usual, I’m having a little preemptive panic about endings: fresh corn, wild strawberries, bare-skinned children streaking like comets in the twilight.
Also, apparently, I’ve been ignoring writerly deadlines in favor of rope swings over the river,
and siting by the campfire watching Col co-opt Dan’s wooden bowl project,
and strolling around here.
And, while it’s been 100% worth it, there’s a persistent and annoying buzz in my ear each night, urging me to flip through the mental rolodex of stories I agreed to write way back when summer was going to last forever, the ones I have been writing, in my mind, anyway.
So, I’m going to buckle down for awhile and get some work done. I’ll be here in this little blog space posting just photos and maybe a few words until I part the sea of deadlines. It’ll be fun, really. Come back tomorrow and see.
Also, have you read this gorgeous piece of writing? If you’ve ever grown a human in your uterus (or come by parenthood in any other way) my guess is Catherine Newman’s words will sound like the echos of your own brain, only better and funnier.