Thanks for the suggestion, Bob, I'll look for the magazine tomorrow. This long stretch of depression or lack of motivation/inspiration or writer's block or whatever this is, is kind of scaring me. It has never gone on this long for me before. I'm trying not to accept delivery of negative thoughts and just tell myself that once the wedding is over and life is back to (sub)normal, I will be too. And it didn't help that Northern Illinois University Press didn't hire Ann and their method of notifying her was to send her an email announcing the hiring of someone else. How cowardly not to send a letter or email thanking her for applying. The toads. But, look, I wrote a bit last night.
Lime green like the newest leaves in spring, the immature iguana clung to the old rock wall. Early in the last century the wall enclosed the property of the Washington plantation. One stroll through the little museum evaporates any romantic ideas about colonial plantation life here. There weren't any broad avenues lined with shady trees or airy houses with spacious rooms cooled by breezes. Never a lush place, the few hardy Europeans who scratched a living out of the meager soil of this island earned that living, their lives nearly as harsh as that endured by the slaves. Sharp rocks, thin soil, and thorny vegetation made it difficult to squeeze out subsistence, much less bounty. The inconsistent rains and the nonexistent nutrients in the ground made this a haven for cactus, iguana, and herds of goats, the growing of none of these were a route to riches. The lime green iguana was unchanged from those long ago days. His home hadn't changed, why should he.
Eh, it's words. Hope you had a nice Easter.
--Barbara
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