Ack! I was driving Sophie to soccer this afternoon and a row of Russian-olive trees reached out and whispered, "Look at us through your writer's eyes". I was driving too fast to give them the attention they begged for, but I did notice that some of the leaves were shining like silver dollars and that the trees were doing their best to stay in line and look presentable. A feeble attempt I know, but it shocked me out of the mindless state of being that I have slumped into. I have been looking at trees and people and my kitchen sink and life as mundanity and not as beautiful things worthy of a few carefully chosen words. So rude. So I'm turning over a new Russian-olive leaf and keeping my writing journal in my not-a-purse and my writer's eyes peeled like a little kid's grape.
Hm....I've got a long way to go. Join me?
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