The Day is Grey.
I am sitting inside the BlackJack Bioregional Infoshop.
I used to write all the time, back when the blog was at www.artappropriatelyamiss.blogspot.com That was before there was facebook to suck my brain out, endless scrolling without much substance. It isn't serving me, though every once in a while, friends post things like this.
Perhaps it is time to get back to the writing. To return to the sketch o' the day to which I was so faithful last year. Perhaps it is time to trade mindless scrolling for these things. Or at least trade the computer screen for the wood stove, stare into the flickering light of a fire for a few hours and dream.
I was joking last night to a friend, we were talking about the Januaries. I struggle in the winter, I told her, because I think my ancestors spent their winters differently- they were either holed up in cozy Norwegian and Hebridean cottages next to fires with storytelling and sleeping for the darkest months- or they were on their Viking ships in the Caribbean.
The point of this blog today- there is none. No point except to start the words tumbling again.
I have lots. About art, life, creativity, earth, love, etc.