In a comment a few days ago, Kathryn noted my "wordsmithiness." That seems so appropriate for what I do. I know I'm not a "writer" per se; a story teller, perhaps. Some days the words come hard, and must be banged out on the anvil of my mind (hard headed?) before they will hold shape. On a good day, words come flowing like molten metal and my typing fingers can barely keep pace. There are those days when there is no raw material...nothing happening, nothing to say. Better on those days to keep quiet rather than blather on.
Kathryn also rallied readers to leave comments. This seems to be a somewhat unwieldy site and it is cumbersome even to make my entries. Plus, I have dial-up and not high speed, so I play innumerable games of solitaire between steps in the process of writing a post. (I'm not addressing the also innumerable times I get up to let Bessie Anne and the cats in and/or out...they will not organize and act as a troupe at one time.) Comments are the first thing I look for when I log in, and I will admit it feeds my ego and my enthusiasm and resolve when I find a note there, or a conventional email response. Just as filing is for the purpose of retrieval, writing is for the purpose of readers, and it helps to know I'm not just throwing feathers into the wind.
Wind...ah, yes. The storm continues today, and snow is predicted for the hill country this afternoon. I stocked up firewood yesterday and stoked the stove first thing this morning. The plum trees in the orchard have put out pink clouds of blossoms, and I'm hoping the wind will leave some intact. Last year the winds were so strong for so long that I got not one piece of fruit from any tree in the orchard...such a pity. At least when the wind blows, I don't have to worry about bellows for the smithy.