Joyous Winter Frosts

Winter here without exception. We've had our deep plunge and big snow and now, routine winter: four more months.

The time now is to do those things put off until this season. When the sun is shining and the meadow needs attention and the lawn needs a good pass and ... Now is the time to take advantage of the early dark, the hibernation, introspection, and bounty of ink. Write.

Tempting to lounge like the walrus at left. So easy to sleep. However, in mid-day I have the regrets of not working enough.

A scene or two isn't getting it. I need to increase the effort and find that balance of accomplishment which leaves me without the feeling of dread at having squandered hours better for writing than anything else.

I write well in spring and summer and fall. I fight with myself in winter. I want to have fun though it isn't anywhere close to recess. I'm good at writing in the evening when I have four other things to get done. In winter, sometimes I have laundry. Sometimes.

Winter is the time when I wish for the marks of accomplishment and success. There's nothing for it but to work more. At least, it is work I enjoy. I enjoy having written more than the writing itself but then, who doesn't?

We're staying after class writing unassigned essays, after all. There's something amiss with us as every fifth grade student knows.

We've too much the winter inside.

Try not to bask on the ice floes. Write something. I will.