|The Cobbler at Loch Long|
I missed my swans, so I've brought them back and changed my photo again, partly because I can't find a decent one. The dear husband of a good friend passed away suddenly the other day and we were fond of him, so I'm in a more reflective mood today. When I suddenly lost different members of my family some years ago, I always turned to writing, preferring to work out grief in creativity.
It certainly makes my husband and me more aware of our own passing years, and the things we still want to achieve. I'm not overly ambitious, never have been, but once again I'm looking at all the stories, poems and novels that lie in various levels of completion on the computer and in files. And I think it's long past the time that I finish what I started, send out those seeking publication, and rewrite the alarmingly long list of those to be worked on and improved.
Autumn and winter always seem ideal for writing, when we can stay indoors more (if we're lucky) and enjoy darker, cosy evenings which lend themselves to any type of creativity. The writing group also begins this week, with a full programme to inspire me. All I need now is to limit my television viewing - I love all the dramas at this time of year. Maybe I should start setting goals down on paper, instead of keeping them vaguely in my mind. But the main thing is to finish what I've started, before time runs out too quickly.
Mark Twain summed it up nicely:
"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."