writing

I've been wondering lately about these writings and how I haven't really shared them with anyone-so they're sort of secret-not so secret since they are published here but secret because no one I know knows they're here. If someone does, I've not been told. So, they remain private and secret to me. I wonder too, if others happen to stumble upon them, will they know the author? Do these writings make it clear or could I be anyone writing for fun? Sometimes, I think about posting the address somewhere or sharing it with people I know but then I wonder if these writings would stay the same; if I knew someone I know was reading them, would I still write the same way? Would an audience make a difference? I'd like some to know my thoughts, gain a better understanding of me but perhaps this doesn't reveal much. I have yet to get truly personal-fear? maybe, although I find myself not fearful of too much these days and I'm not sure if that's a good thing. Would I be more apt to post this publicly if I lived in the city?

morning

Morning. Hmmm. I sit, bleary eyed from staying up too late last night but not wanting to go to bed earlier but I'm not sure why. I'd like to be a morning girl, up with the sunrise, bustling about, preparing for the day. But, the mornings come slowly, unless of course, I wake up too late, touching the snooze too many times, feeling the warmth of the covers and the softness of the pillows. This morning, I'm on the porch listening to the birds as I write, coffee warm and feeling the coolness of the air around me. I've never been too much of a morning lover-not sure why-most often, the days prove to bring thoughts and experiences unexpected so one would think that would bring an excitement of what's to come-right? I'm wondering if I would be different if I lived in the city? Would the noise of the city beckon and encourage me to join it? Would I become the morning girl?

lemonade

It's a beautiful day today-about 75 degrees or so, blue sky, white billowy clouds, occasional breeze- and I'm sitting here on my front porch and today, I'm thinking that this small town life isn't so bad. For now. Not that I think it's so bad on other days, in fact, I never think of it as bad but perhaps just not for me. Later. But for now, it's good. I watch my daughter as she sits behind her Lemonade Stand table, humming, inventing stories about acorns she discovers on the sidewalk, shouting "Lemonade for Sale!" as people pass and I'm thinking that this is a good life for her. and Buddy, my large lab who watches her to make sure that she is safe-he eats sticks and chases squirrels and lazes in the sun. If we lived in the city, I wonder how today might have been different? Well, today is a nice one, for this self-described city girl...

nightlife

Last night, I went to the city, downtown, 20 minutes south of the small town where I live. Driving closer to the city, I could feel myself getting excited about the change of pace, the sights, the adventure to come. At last, the lights seemed to welcome me and the vibration of the nightlife pulled me in to its arms. There. It's me there. Familiar.

The night was good with live music in a beautiful venue and people about. The evening air was cool with the feeling of fall. Sounds were everywhere-talking, laughing, joking, bass, guitar, mandolin, banjo, footsteps, car horns, cars, buses, dogs. The people were diverse-young, old, hippie, conservative, liberal, parent, grandparent, employed, unemployed, tidy, sweaty, tall, short. Later in the evening it was time to journey home. The streets were quieter then and the downtown was settling in for the morning hours. There is a peaceful time there and I'm sure even more as the night grows deeper. I suppose I could write for hours describing the night in the city...