Two of my favorite smells. I always buy a little Hazelnut to mix into the regular so I've got a lot of aroma and not much flavor. I know, kinda goofy but that's the way I like it. The newspaper was late this morning so both Durwood and I are a bit discombobulated. Most days by now we've read the paper and are toiling over our copies of the crossword (he gets the Xerox and I get the newsprint) but it just arrived so things are a bit up in the air chez Malcolm. Will the whole day be cock-eyed? God, I hope not.
October 18--Kujuku, Japan. Chan stood among the cherry blossoms on Grandfather's hillside overlooking the bay with its tiny islands. No one lived on those islands. They were without fresh water but Chan thought she should be allowed to go out there to explore. She was good in the boat, she could navigate and she had learned how to read the water. Grandfather said that she could not go because she was a girl and girls rode in boats, they didn't sail them. Besides, he said, there were shoals and sandbars that appeared and disappeared. Even experienced sailors fell prey to them, he told her. So she sat in the orchard looking at the islands making up stories about a brave girl who sailed to an island that came and went in the magical mist.
Here's how I feel about writers. I can't really tell one just by looking, you know, but if I mention writing to them their eyes lite up and there's a giggle in their voice. Sometime there's the warm satisfaction of finding a kindred spirit or desperation wreathes their face to tell me how the writing's been going for them lately. I have met poets and fictionalists, memoirists and freelancers, all are willing to share their latest "secret" and publishing resource. It's like if we build good karma by helping others, good things will come to us too. I love writers.
And that's the last of the daily prompt writings from The Clearing. Now I really am home, I guess. Darn it.