Trying to explain why I post what I post, when I do post is often pointless. The nibs on my quills make better points. But, as I was cleaning a top shelf in my studio I knocked over one of a pair of these beautiful zebras. I use them as bookends. I caught it in time, saw it needed a good dusting, did it, and walked it into the room where I often write. It wasn't until later, when I was on the phone that I absentmindedly stuck three quills in the mysterious slots on the zebra's body. It appears to be looking at it's odd tail feathers, doesn't it? I thought so, so I left them there. It's a good quill holder. The nibs are protected for now, but I have a feeling the zebra's mate misses it very much. See? I told you from the start that this was pointless.
Okay, maybe not so pointless after all. You see, I was catching up on some blog posts I'd missed reading, and one such blog, http://acornmoon.blogspot.com/2015/05/trial-and-error.html has a lovely bird that reminded me of the grosbeak from Anna's notecard and matching stamp. I intended to leave a comment, but I was distracted by a comment someone else left. I followed the commenter to their blog and fell hard. Such a shock to the stomach those photos were/are! I finally left a comment and forgot all about the first blogger's beauty and art. This happens to me a lot. I'm easily distracted when something out of the ordinary catches my attention, and that's saying a lot. In a world where everyone seems to want to do/be like everyone who's trending at the time, original thinkers and doers stand out like super novas. I tend to drift away in their wake. I lose myself. When I come to, I forget what led me. So, this is where I came to tonight: http://kathrynducie.blogspot.com.
Once in a while I come to my senses and can't figure out how I got to where I am. No big deal, right? Exactly! Especially not if I enjoy where I regain consciousness. Most times it's just pointless, like trying to understand this "Godzilla" movie no one is watching--I've tried to watch at least six times, and still haven't figured out the plot. But doesn't that food make you want to run away to Ireland for a week of teas? I mean, who makes food like that where I live? Clotted cream? Yes, I've seen it in specialty shops, but what will I slather it on? Hot cornbread?
Look! They have all the bees too! I haven't seen one since January, back when they were underfoot in all the flowering clover. They flew away to Ireland! Because they have teas and clotted cream there! And that penmanship. "Oldbridge" is it? Well the only bridge in my neck of the world is probably still a new-bridge-underwater. Whoa, Nellie. Back yourself up. Kate sounds familiar with her mood. Her grammar is just better. Dang! if she hasn't stolen some of the sun too. But be still my heart. I've reached the mop post. Time to read. Kate? Write to me? It won't be pointless if you do.
Write on, read on, then write some more. I'm going to write a letter about this moment. Gotta run! Wait! Maybe not. I have to backtrack . . .