Monday Views: …in Winter

Writing can feel hard. Or is “difficult” the better word here? Is there a difference? Is it challenging? Arduous? Complicated? 

As much as I love the idea of writing, especially helping others get through it, writing is a very toilsome (?) practice some days. The idea of writing is my favorite. I have loads of stories and observations that I could potentially jot down. Words upon words of images built on strung-together symbols and sounds that are meaningful to our minds. Yet, the act of writing is, itself, difficult. There’s an iron door that blocks the easeful coming and going of these thoughts. 

And it feels utterly ridiculous and exasperating, especially in the budding age of so-called artificial intelligence. (We do not even acknowledge the oxymoronic patina anymore…)

So, in an effort to shake off the anxiety that comes from trying to express myself in a very human way – through describing my world – I am taking up the challenge of what I am calling “Monday Views.” 

The parameters will be pretty loose: describe what I see, feel, and/or hear for ten minutes. No genre or word count requirements, no expectations beyond getting descriptions on paper. Let’s see where it goes. All of you will, if you choose, get to see it progress over time. I have no expectations, and that feels fun. 

Monday View:

Outside my window the ground is patched with very wet snow. It’s extra wet because of the rain yesterday, finally creating snowman-worthy material for my kids who plan to take up the challenge after school today. The ground is starting to get a bit muddy from the melt. It all has a depth of color that comes from damp and wet – a red brick house across the street sits brightly against the gunmetal grey of quiet pavement. Melted snow is dripping from the porch rooftop. It’s also sliding in big white sheets off the metal roof to great, violent crashes in the dormant flower beds. Birds seem to be enjoying the warmer winter weather. It’s no longer hovering around zero degrees Fahrenheit, which made it eerily quiet around here. Birds in winter always remind me that we aren’t dead, and mid-February is a rough time of year in Pennsylvania. We need reminders.  

I live in a walking-neighborhood. This is another tribute to life and living. A couple just briskly walked by in jeans and sweatshirts carrying coffees while chatting loudly enough for me to hear the muffled sound of their voices. A very vocal bird just cut through the conversation. 

Water and signs of life. We need reminders.