The beginning of summer is a tease. It's too beautiful and too comfortable to even begin to think about what is ahead. The mosquitoes have not yet launched their all-out attacks, nor has the humidity that drenches us in sweat really gotten off the ground. Personally, I cannot help but be seduced by this perfect weather.
This morning I went outside and actually enjoyed doing yard work. Clipping hedges that are mushrooming with the rains. Pulling weeds that are thriving and don't know they are about to be thrown in the trash.
As I clipped, I wondered why I hadn't written the books everyone is telling me I should write -- about my stories. So many. Do I want to do that? Do I really want to stand naked in front of strangers -- and, worse, in front of those who know me? In the stories, there is joy and there is pain. I guess that is about par for the course in everyone's life. So many strange twists along the way. Maybe I got more than my share, maybe that's just the way it is.
Is it fair to tell other people's stories and tuck away my own in a safe place? (Great exhale.) Maybe I'll start. Yeah, I've done that before. Mo' bettuh to paint a picture and let people guess what is inside. A major gallery owner here in Atlanta has just revived his interest in my work. Maybe there's hope? Before I die and everything I've created goes to a garage sale...or the trash heap.
Ah, yes, thoughts a summer morning can stimulate. I think I'll make myself a cup of tea and then hit the showers...a luxury summer makes us appreciate.