For all my whining about not having enough time to write during the last six months, I have done an abysmal job of keeping up the last six weeks. Life has been busy, but time has not been a factor in my not posting; motivation, or rather timing and inspiration have been the culprit. I've learned what most real writers have known for ages--that when the mood strikes everything must be stopped to favor the muse. All summer the inspiration and the words have come in the middle of the night or in the middle of a walk. I haven't once gotten up at 2am to answer the call; instead I have tried to tuck it all away until a more convenient time and thus found that it's gone. What flowed easily in the dead of night is like moving rocks the next day. So I am left with a tangled mess of ideas, thoughts, and half written but ultimately abandoned essays on everything that I've encountered since the end of June. I'm doing my best to squeegee the windows of my brain of the residue. About all I have left are the pictures--and the best of them are not even mine, but ephemera's. Here they are.
