Last week sometime, or maybe the week before, I answered some questions for an interview about blogging habits. That is, my blogging habits. Such as they are.
When the inevitable question posed to writers of all stripes, bloggers included, was asked, "how do you manage writer's block?" I simply told the truth-- I don't get it. I write or I don't write. In the case of blogging, if I am not in here dazzling you with the extraordinary-- mythic, really-- fistfuls of lint I comb from the dryer screen like a modern-day Psyche gathering golden fleece to deliver shining wool to the implacable Aphrodite, it simply means I must've opened Persephone's box and fallen deep asleep.
That, or I'm facing deadlines.
But there's nothing romantic about deadlines-- wouldn't it be so much cooler if I were deep asleep in the woods somewhere, rendered unconscious from opening the box to the mysteries of beauty?
The weather today -- as I imagine it was up and down the East Coast-- was nothing short of sublime. Every phone call I could take outside, I did. Every chance I had to go outside, I went.
Alas, it passed so quickly. At the end I grabbed these shots around the apartment to remember the light. Tomorrow we slide into Spring and hell if it doesn't feel like mid-summer.
The dogs are up in New Hampshire until Saturday.
Whatever shall I do with myself?