I started out the day by reading the first chapter of Astrid &Veronika by Linda Olsson. (I am reading a lot of first chapters now as I set out to begin a new book.) This first chapter struck me with its stark loveliness. It seemed solitary, like the act of reading itself. The character Veronika is a writer, renting a house in a remote place. (Doesn't every writer dream of being cut off from civilization in a sparely furnished house with a fireplace and nowhere to turn but inside to the words.) Anyway, I loved the line "It was time to find new words." I think I will write that in calligraphy and set it next to my computer. Has anything ever so succinctly described the writing life?
From words to wine. I am thinking of going to Moon Dancer Winery today to check out the space and prepare for my art show. It is going to be a beautiful day and the view from the winery is inspiring. I don't need the inspiration to put words or brushstrokes in my head, but I do feel the need to connect with the larger picture. Maybe from the mountain, I can look at my life with a bit more clarity. Or Claret! (A little wine humor.)
In case you were wondering, Moon Dancer Winery was on my list of places to contact by phone today. See--I would rather drive a total of an hour and a half than to make a phone call. Or maybe, I am just engaging in good old Sylvia Plath forms of avoidance.
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