I have discovered that writing ain't easy. I thought when I started this blog I would be able to just sit down and type. The thoughts, words, paragraphs would come and away I would go mesmerizing people with my wit and humor. And now I can't think of a damn thing to say.
I just deleted 5 posts I have started and not been able to finish. I can't think of where to go with them. I can't have writer's block because I am far from being a writer.
I have tried writing about planting, breast cancer (my own), not be able to write and the list goes on.
I guess the easiest way to go is to tell you all that although the dirt road I live on binds my heart with its beauty I can be persuaded and have recently left the confines of this small town to wander what to me is far afield.
I recently visited my cousin Kelley down in Pelham, MA. There is an absolutely stunning area known by folks down there as 'the Q'. Q being short for Quabbin Reservoir. My cuz (as I call her) works at the boat launch at Gate 8. You can stand there and just keep looking. The Q is about 28 miles long. I lived near it well into my 20's and not once had I gone there. I knew the general history of the Q and the fact that my hometown housed not only a few buildings from towns that were dismantled and/or destroyed by the construction of the Q but also a cemetery moved from one of those towns. I won't go into all the details but goggle it if you have a chance. The history is fascinating.
I made it my goal for this summer to go places. To visit friends and relatives in an effort to stay in touch. To do a few things a little out of my comfort zone. Not far, just a toe over the line kind of thing.
It has been 12 years since I was diagnosed with breast cancer. A lumpectomy, lymphectomy and radiation took care of it. And I have been in remission for all these years. But it is something you live with and something you continue to fear. I don't know why but this year is the year I feel I need to do something. Visit, draw, sew, write, (and more) some of the things I have laid aside or ignored for awhile. I think better than a second childhood (how many of you would even want to go through puberty again?) this is a second adulthood. A chance to be 25 again. Not in looks, the wrinkles and white hair are starting to show. But in attitude. When I was 25 I could do anything (and pretty much did). I still can do almost anything. I just have to do it a little slower.
My road reminds me of the poem by Frost, read it an enjoy. Its about my dirt road and all the other roads out there.
I just deleted 5 posts I have started and not been able to finish. I can't think of where to go with them. I can't have writer's block because I am far from being a writer.
I have tried writing about planting, breast cancer (my own), not be able to write and the list goes on.
I guess the easiest way to go is to tell you all that although the dirt road I live on binds my heart with its beauty I can be persuaded and have recently left the confines of this small town to wander what to me is far afield.
I recently visited my cousin Kelley down in Pelham, MA. There is an absolutely stunning area known by folks down there as 'the Q'. Q being short for Quabbin Reservoir. My cuz (as I call her) works at the boat launch at Gate 8. You can stand there and just keep looking. The Q is about 28 miles long. I lived near it well into my 20's and not once had I gone there. I knew the general history of the Q and the fact that my hometown housed not only a few buildings from towns that were dismantled and/or destroyed by the construction of the Q but also a cemetery moved from one of those towns. I won't go into all the details but goggle it if you have a chance. The history is fascinating.
I made it my goal for this summer to go places. To visit friends and relatives in an effort to stay in touch. To do a few things a little out of my comfort zone. Not far, just a toe over the line kind of thing.
It has been 12 years since I was diagnosed with breast cancer. A lumpectomy, lymphectomy and radiation took care of it. And I have been in remission for all these years. But it is something you live with and something you continue to fear. I don't know why but this year is the year I feel I need to do something. Visit, draw, sew, write, (and more) some of the things I have laid aside or ignored for awhile. I think better than a second childhood (how many of you would even want to go through puberty again?) this is a second adulthood. A chance to be 25 again. Not in looks, the wrinkles and white hair are starting to show. But in attitude. When I was 25 I could do anything (and pretty much did). I still can do almost anything. I just have to do it a little slower.
My road reminds me of the poem by Frost, read it an enjoy. Its about my dirt road and all the other roads out there.
The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
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