This Friday is the due date of Spinning Straw into Gold's Fourth Friday Fairy-Tale prompt. If you're in any way interested, check it out and share some of your work. I've got a page of half-thoughts scribbled down somewhere on my desk: buried under seeds or tucked between grapefruit, but it's in an unsightly stage. I'm trying to clean it up enough to share. My writing has given way to gardening, pig-tending, and eating grapefruits by the dozen..I feel like there is a fuzz in my mind that only goes away when my hands are buried in dirt or my mouth is full of citrus. I would like to wake up properly at some point, but the actual dreams that come from a fuzzy mind are amazingly rich. I feel a bit like the men in those Lovecraft stories, the ones whose dreams bring them to lands so absorbing as to call them further and further from daily life..I am not so absorbed, but the dreams are strong, and my writing is suffering from it.
The apple trees are all in bloom! They remind me of a friend of mine. I want apple trees of my own now, and cherries, and peaches, and plums, and pears..Every good thing.
God is either preparing me for a great disappointment, or else training me to see beyond what I'm accustomed to. He's showing me lonely crows all over the place. One by one by one..I've never gone so long without seeing flocks of two, or three, or five, or more. I don't feel disturbed by them, but I wonder if I ought to. The number of them worries me. What do they mean?
