The Great Problem

Isabel Paterson, one of the most amazing people that America has ever had the privilege of calling her own, once wrote: The great problem of the writer is that if you do anything else you have no time to write, and, if you don't, you have nothing to write about.

Alas, I have been in that cycle of insanity lo these many months. Life is joyfully busy, intensely productive, brimmingly full. And that is good, indeed. Every day, I think of a number of topics on which to write, but at the end of the day -- in the wee sma's when I used to get it all out, finger-to-keyboard -- I fall into bed in a state of happy exhaustion. I guess that Evelyn Waugh would note that I am in the process of saving up writer's capital, to be hoarded and spent on future work. I hope that is true. I'm trying to get notes down, at the very least, to bolster and refresh my memory when at last life slows to its normal pace of hectic tranquility.

For those of you who read Andrea's blog, she and her family are up here, safe and sound. I think they are enjoying a respite from the late summer heat that would have engulfed them in sultry Texas. It's been HOT for us web-footed Western Washingtonians, but she and her husband laugh at our discomfort in temps that hit the low 80's and declare that we would spontaneously combust should we ever step foot into the Land O' Longhorns. It's nice to meet a cyber-friend face-to-face and connect in a deeper way. I'm very glad that they took the chance on moving up north.

I can truly say that I am ready for autumn. This time last year found me sad in the midst of my autumn bliss, because I thought that it was my last in Washington. This year, with our decision to stay, I can face my favorite season with unmitigated joy. I can hardly wait to get the sweaters out of storage and feel the tingle of rain on my face and crave hot cocoa and cider and watch the leaves turning red and gold.

All joy and blessings to you, blogworld friends!