Well world...I have a blog....and as I sit here pondering what to write to make you all believe that I am as witty, well-read, and wonderful as I want you to think...I realize that I'm actually extremely average, completely normal...and really dull.
I'm taking a writing course...I'm not an aspiring authour so don't be holding your breathe and waiting for a Pulitzer prize worthy novel...I write vignettes about life...all of them true (except for the bits that aren't).
I've given my blog the title signs of the seasons for a variety of reasons.
I love nature...altho I'm a city child at heart, there is nothing I love more than being outdoors in the woods and mountains. We inhabitants of 21st century (and being a fan of Eddie Izzard, I did have to pause and figure that out) have forgotten how to trust and speak with nature, we've forgotten her power. We should reconnect.
MY NOVEMBER GUEST (Robert Frost)
My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.
Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.
The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.
Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.
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