I am writing this post from Florida - perhaps I'm writing this post because I am in Florida. The hot sun and lush vegetation have thawed my frozen brain. I have longed for a notebook here to jot down the constant array of exquisite stimulation. I have wondered if I would remember upon returning home the way the pigeons, who frequented the beach, had iridescent feathers that shimmered in the sunlight or how the Cypress Trees stretched like barren skeletons dotted with brilliantly colored air plants. In Michigan in the cleansing winter months, our eyes seem to fail. Gone are the wide prairies of buttery dandelions and sugar sand dunes. My sight begins to feel buried beneath a frosted layer of ice until even my inner vision starts to see only white, endless glittering nothingness.
Today I look forward to returning home. My mind has had its fill of this glorious dream, so brilliant and overwhelming that I long for the silence of the north woods. I look forward to the blank page and my newly opened mind. I have much to do, mainly Book II in my Born of Shadows Series. Ula: Book I has been turned into the publisher and may need future revisions before publication, but it is blissfully out of my grasp. I also need to begin edits on the chick lit book that I finished months ago and have not looked at since. I have written a few short stories, outlined a few articles, but largely I have allowed the words to fall into the cracks in my sofa and fester with the cat toys and crumbs.
As for reading, I just finished last night Alexandra Fuller's Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight - a memoir about Africa that was deeply moving and left me longing to feel the dry grass and see the bougainvillea. I cannot list any of my other latest reads right now because it is time to begin our final day of the trip and their titles slip my mind.