The texture of my life

My hiatus has not been deliberately imposed. Rather, I found myself full to gagging on technology and my (limited) virtual world. I also became tired of words, and in the ensuing months of my withdrawal gravitated toward color, texture, glossy pictures, paints, paper, and ephemera that excited my tactile senses. I started a sister blog called Paper Trails, but still couldn't bring myself to post much there, either. I stopped visiting other blogs. It's an odd time in which I neither feel depressed nor passionate; yet I am waiting and watching, observing and finding.

Yesterday I took a walk with the girls after a spring rain. It had been a while since we explored the creek together (though they have been happily discovering fossils, footprints and petrified wood among the shale and limestone.) Another year of Derecho winds had toppled my favorite stump yet other trunks sprouted odd butterfly mushrooms and lichen. Once again I was drawn to the texture and uniqueness of my world. The girls gathered last years pine cones, mulberry seeds, found objects, and spring blooms into their baskets. We spotted Mr & Mrs Mallard for the third year in a row, got close enough to touch a pair of disinterested rabbits, and in our quest to spot a snake down in the creek a few yards below, were scared witless when one appeared not six inches from our toes. It was a "baby," three-foot black snake with bright yellow stomach and he was scared as silly as we were. He stuck his head in a hole under the concrete curb where we were standing and couldn't wiggle in. The girls screamed and got as close as they dared while I snapped pictures and prayed he'd show his head. When he did, I startled again and jumped back as he slithered away faster than my camera shutter.

The texture of my life is ever changing and still surprises me but it remains real and focused on the beauty of the mundane.