By 6:15 last night three of the five members of the writing group had said they couldn't make it. Luckily Jenny checked her email and caught the third message, so she called me and suggested that we take a pass on the night since she had just finished mowing and was hot and sweaty--and naked. A little disappointed but tired too, I agreed. By the time I drove all 5 miles across town to the duplex that we share, she was at my door saying maybe we should go anyway because she had a story she wanted to revise and needed the discipline. Not wanting to drive back downtown, I suggested that we set up our writing on my patio since it was a nice night. That worked great; Jenny could have a beer and I could set up my laptop and tackle Rewrite #2 of The Seaview. So that's what we did. We worked for about an hour, then we batted a few ideas back and forth, and looked at the rest of the year's lines at The First Line, before saying goodbye around 8. Not a bad evening after all. And I think I might have a story idea for the last first line of the year. Yay! An idea!
May 20--Wild Goose, Glacier Park, Montana. The air was so still that the water in St. Mary's Lake was like glass. The jagged mountains surrounding the lake were perfectly reflected, so perfect that it gave her vertigo to stare at it. Jean didn't want to move, didn't want to be the one that set in motion the chain reaction that ruffled the branches and made wind ripples in the pristine scene. Even the clouds looked like they had been brushed, had the snarls smoothed out of them so that they lay lightly in the sky. The sharp-edged landscape looked like something out of a Tolkien story, and the little island out in the center of the icy waters of the lake looked like the place a wizard would live.
Now it's time to go out with shovel and hoe to chase the weeds out of the garden so that we can plant our veggies and herbs for the summer. Have a good Friday!
--Barbara
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