The difference a day can make

I realise the irony of my previous post. Today is the first day of spring and I've only just reached winter. It will definitely be a challenge to write about the cold dark days of a white winter whilst the sun is shining through my window and the birds are chattering as they fly by.

I don't know about you but I've already felt the difference in temperature. To quote Evelyn, "it's amazing the difference a day can make".

Winter is here

You may recall in early June I posted that Evelyn (and I quote) "is about to enter into her coldest and darkest [winter]." While I was truthful in saying that she was about to, it just happened that it has taken a further "two months" for it to come to fruition. And so I excitedly exclaim that WINTER HAS ARRIVED in the land of Evelyn. Not to say that this is an excitable thing for her. Quite the contrary. It is, however, excitable for me, as it means that we have stepped into another season full of unknown beauty to be explored. It also means that I am that much closer to completing Evelyn's story- a project seven years in the making.

Creative Genius

In my recent research, I stumbled upon a fantastic poem about autumn. Further reading found me a gold mine of creative genius. John Updike, you are my new hero. 

The stripped and shapely

Maple grieves


The ghosts of her

Departed leaves.

The ground is hard,

As hard as stone. 


The year is old,

The birds are flown.

And yet the world,

In its distress, 


Displays a certain

Loveliness.


- John Updike A Child's Calendar (1965)

He wrote one poem for each month of the year and compiled it as a children's book with illustrator Nancy Ekholm Burkert. The book was later edited, re-illustrated and reprinted in 1999 with illustrator Trina Schart Hyman. 

I'd love to get my hands on a hardcover first edition.

Indescribable

Some emotions, I've come to discover, cannot be described. We use metaphors and similes to attempt to speak aloud what is going on inside, yet always fall short in our comparisons. Oh the complexity of being a human! Such things are particularly hard to accomplish when I am trying to keep my readers in the dark and surprise them with small pieces of the story along the way to keep them interested...

Two vacant rooms stare back at me.

The lights are on but no one is home.

These lights they appear unchanging:

Dim like lit kindling, yet unable to draw a flame.

Look no further and it may seem a happy place,

But to venture on will be found something contrary.

Yet none look further; they see what they wish.

If just one would, maybe then it would change. 

Words or there lack of

It could well just be the fact that I haven't written in some time, or perhaps my mind recovering from the roller coaster ride I've taken it on for the past few months. Whatever it is, it's left me stuttering to find the right words. I've found myself on countless occasions of late, stumbling and um-ing and ah-ing before someone chimes in with the words I was trying to put together in my brain. It's transpired onto paper as well and I've found myself somewhat wordless. So, I'm sorry to say, no prose today. But they say "a picture is worth a thousand words" so here's hoping that this will suffice:

10 points to anyone who can guess what it is...

Hiding

As the years carry on, I'm starting to see just how true Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 is. That with each season of life, it brings with it different emotions. That a person changes with these seasons. Things are revealed about them that were not known previously. It makes me think that, if we are not careful in our seasons, life's opportunities will pass us by. It makes me think of Georgia Fair's song Real Man Hiding "...my hair grows thin you know, but I've grown no more wise..."

The words seem to be sprayed

With little care.

‘Cause if there were,

Then no words would they share.

Avert my eyes

For fear and doubt.

Avert my heart

To keep the world out.

Bury my head,

Shut my mind.

Close the doors,

Lock the blind.

In a small huddle

We will pull through.

Time it will pass, yet

There’s nothing we can do.

emptiness

Pronunciation:/ˈɛm(p)tɪnɪs/

noun

[mass noun]

• 1 the state of containing nothing:the vast emptiness of space

It looks something like this:

Those times when the party is over- everything is packed up and all the people are gone; those times when I'm home alone; those times when I've no place to go. Yes, it is those times that I feel empty inside; those times where I try so hard to turn to God for fulfillment. Not always do I feel His presence, His providence, His love. Yet I wait in trust.

I feel He is shaping me in my patience. That the longer I wait, the easier it gets. I wonder if there is a tipping point... I hope not.

The art of waiting upon God is not something that comes over night- especially if you are not on speaking terms with Him. Evelyn has many nights to endure yet.

The waves continue to roll.

Day and night they go in and out.

Give a little, get a little.

It all works out in the end.

I shall follow the lead of the creations before me.

Keep on keeping on 'til I can no longer keep on.

And when I can no longer, but lay my head to rest,

For my keeping on, may I be well blessed.