I love Monday. It is the one day I can drink coffee in my pajamas, read blogs, comments, emails and not feel too guilty about it all. My work week, Wednesday through Saturday, 12 hour days leaves not a minute to really read or concentrate. So today is my day to explore, click away into the ether. Does it feel like their are so many wonderful blogs out there that it is impossible to keep up with them?
Christine at Swirly Girl is asking a question. "How does blogging - whether writing your own, reading others, leaving comments, etc. - feed you?'
I left a brief comment but this one was said it all!
“When I turned onto blog reading, that same feeling of Chinese lanterns being lit in the twilight breeze was the same. Small cataclysmic sparks of possibilities. The surge of finding artists, writers, photographers, designers and souls all around this globe sharing their work with the world, unencumbered by time, distance, editing, availability. Can you imagine that – at a click, you have access to the very latest beats of inspiration. I felt great surges through me. Collages I have never seen the likes of before. Photographs so whimsically captured. Writing so honest and brave and real. Artwork so vivid and personal. You could see what others were doing, what they were inspired by, what caught their breath. You could find out their process, see what their studio looked like, how it felt to make it. You became witness to the struggle and the soaring flight of being an artist and attempting to encapsulate your highest truth. It felt real and alive, like the first glimpse of a great breathing beast in the forest.” from comments, posted by Leonie.
Tongue in Cheek ask, "What reminds you of your childhood home?" I have thought of some of these often. I want to remember more. Here are some of mine:
A chiming clock at my mom's house (was stolen in a home robbery)
The sound of a passing train
The smell of cooking, sauted onions, pinto beans, chocolate cake
The wonderful mixture of manure and dirt in an arena, hay, sweaty horses
Mom's perfume, Joy
My grandmother's gardenias (that I used to decorate my mud pies)
Driving on a dark country road at night and coming to a dip in the road, a low-lying bog, the change of the hot summer night to a cool breeze and the smell of decaying vegetation
Swamp coolers, the sound and smell, in the summer at my grandmother's house in West Texas
Baking weeds in a Texas sun in horse pastures
And finally, visual and spiritual fall inspiration from Visual Voice here and here. And my friend, Jared's fall point of view.
Book Review: A Place Called Home
29 minutes ago