day one

it is the first day of the last month of the year. bright and cold and all my newly found fairy-tales at the ready. i finished "Through the Looking-Glass" last night and two more short-stories in "The Bloody Chamber". i went to bed with a head full of ideas but can't remember any dreams. i woke up feeling easy and happy.

i wrote all morning long and found the end of the hand-made notebook. 7 days and it is filled. that won't cut it. and i saw this coming the other day when i ran passed the half-way mark and decided to go back to my beloved black and white speckled composition books. i have a new stack now and the first page of the first in the stack has already been kissed and scribbled on. an old, thrift-store valentine taped to the front cover.

i wrote and wanted to stay in one place all day long, rolling in the ink but i caught myself and checked the clock, found my sports bra, and ran through the big vineyard. they are pruning the vines today. cutting their tops off. the remaining grapes, crushed in the narrow aisles, smelled warm and sweet as cookies. i took my time and ran a bit further than i usually do. inga is sleeping now, worn out, and i am on my 2nd pot of coffee.

the light is good and clear. i will bundle up and get my brush. there is oil to work.