Do you know where this road goes? Round the bend and on it flows Past the barn, and past the gate Past the fence where the horses wait. It�s been a while since a car drove by From the look of the ground where the gold leaves lie. But here I come, ready or not. Coming with frost, to this very spot. Summer�s green has gone before These brilliant brushstrokes on the floor Of nature�s parlor, inviting us in To reminisce on what has been. Here I come, Ready or not Autumn�s my name. We�ll meet in this spot.

PAGE TWO

I am constantly amazed and very impressed when an on-line journalist posts an entry nearly every day, or even several times a week. And many of you write a journal AND a blog. Beside that you enjoy very active lives and write about your many activities.

I don�t know how you do it.

I have always taken life too seriously, and I over analyze everything. That is a given. The result is that I procrastinate, and usually do not record my thoughts on paper. (or electronically...)

All the years of my mother�s life, she faithfully wrote in one of those small locked diaries, which could be purchased at the Ten Cents Store. This was long before �journaling� became the thing to do. She had stacks of diaries from previous years, and if she missed writing for a few days, she would work diligently to recall what had occurred during this period, and fill in the blank pages. But I think she seldom, if ever, wrote what was really in her heart. She recorded each day�s �happenings�. �So and so came to visit; got a permanent on Tuesday; we had fresh corn and tomatoes out of the garden; the weather was hot and muggy��this was the meat of the daily entry.

Many times I saw her refer back to a certain day/date from a year ago, or some such, just to see what had happened on that date, or what the weather was like �last year at this time�. She wrote a record of her daily details for most of the years of her adult life, but I seriously doubt that she ever recorded her innermost thoughts, desires, or responses to these happenings.

I am just the opposite of this. Even I don�t much care about the mundane occurrences of my life. At least, not enough to record them. And I can�t possibly imagine that YOU would be interested. So�unless there is something that really takes root in my thoughts and I examine or extrapolate its content, and come to some conclusion which I perceive to posess a modicum of value�I can�t bring myself to write.

You can tell I haven�t had many inspirations of late. Blank page indicates a blank mind. Or at least a mind devoid of any transmittable content.

So there you have it. When you don�t hear from me for long periods of time, it is normally due to one of three things.

1. A blank mind

2. A very busy life

3. Procrastination

However, I do need to write. For myself.

Writing holds me to some accountability. I DO write some of my feelings and thoughts, and this is therapeutic for me. I also have a need to express myself.

Another �excuse� for procrastination is that it really does take a lot of effort and time for me to do it. My vision problems increase the effort of proofreading, and �even just reading.

And I do not use an �editor� or any type of web page helper to help with formatting, so I have to play around with the html a lot in order to achieve some minimum amount of style and form on the page. I love computer graphics, although I know relatively nothing about them. When I was working, I designed all sorts of in-house book covers, graphics, etc., because they were just on my local computer. They were not on-line, so wysiwyg was in effect. I didn�t have to concern myself with html.

I have to be prepared to set aside a chunk of my time to do this page, in the manner in which I really want�

well, sort of.

I mean, I probably should get a REAL web page designed with some REAL graphics�

I would have all sorts of colors, tables, boxes, lines, and even some mixed fonts., etc. I would include decorative graphics here and here�and I know I could do more of that here, but it would become my lifework. (Now if I were getting paid�.)

You get the picture.

PAGE THREE

I have a mermaid in my pool,

Who is too small to go to school.

She can kick, and she can swim.

Today I spied her on the rim

As she cooled from summer�s heat,

Standing tall on tiptoed feet.

She didn�t see me hiding near

Or she�d have disappeared, I fear.

PAGE FOUR

SOME FOOD FOR YOUR SPIRIT

I recently heard the story of a man who had lost his wife after a long, rich marriage. He naturally grieved her loss and the devastating changes it had made in his life. He mourned for many months, and the months grew into years. The loss of his wife became part of every conversation he entered into, and was constantly on his mind. It did not fade or decrease with the passage of time, and there came a day when he was known in his community as �the man who lost his wife.�

He had allowed his tragedy to become his identity.

Most of us have something that has unalterably changed our lives. The moral of this story is to be careful that the past doesn�t poison our present. God cannot give us beauty for ashes, until we are willing to let go of the ashes.

Thanks for reading! You make me happy.

Short BIO Found Here

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