I noticed and wrote about four items on the daily walk, but I didn’t think solitary day two would be as good. That has happened before. As I mentioned in a reply, John and I talk the walk, chatting most of the time we are walking. When I talk or listen, it’s as if my eyes are blocked. John had a play date at the train club, so I was walking alone for several days. Sure enough, I did not notice much to write about on the second day.
Here are my observations:
I saw two honeysuckle blooms that will be frozen to death in 24 hours, and I spotted a dead blue glove on a driveway. The nearest mailbox to that driveway had a rubber band to hold the door shut, and the band has snapped.
That’s it. I had my hand ready to grab the little toy camera. There were any number of beautiful scenes, but each time I thought of taking a photo, I took off my brain filter. That filter sees the sun lighting up a mountain or notices a beautiful cloud formation while erasing poles, power lines, and unsightly debris. I know people Photo Shop those things out, but I’m not one of those.
Maybe because I had nothing interesting to write about, I found words coming out of my mouth that I never expected to hear. Neighbor Dawn stopped her car to speak to me as she drove to her volunteer job. She was urging me to get out and enjoy the outdoors, because colder temps are coming tonight. I grinned foolishly and said, “I am a writer.”
There! I said it! Always before, I danced around the subject by saying I like to write or I spend a lot of time writing. This time the bold statement hung in the air, unchallenged. I am not an author, one paid for written work, but I am a writer.