355: Artist’s dates

Early this morning, I sat at the dining room table looking out at the pond every now and then as I scribbled my morning pages.  Most of this start-of-the-day writing is blah, blah, blah, but I’m surprised by the occasional insight that creeps in.  That’s what happens, I suppose, when you de-clutter your mind.

I had the patio doors open so I could listen to the sounds of morning.  As the sun came up, the cicadas took over for the chorus of crickets.  The kingfisher chattered at the back of the pond, his rattling cry rolling along the surface of the pond and up to the house.  The water carries sound well.

Read the rest of this entry »