The Poem-A-Day prompts from Poetic Asides having failed to satisfy, I began my own prompts and did not complete the month of writing daily. I found myself more often out in the garden taking photographs of Spring's changes, or picking fruit and herbs for food-swapping day, 2nd December. Sitting at my writer's desk, I would look up to delight in the play of wind or sunlight on the greenery, and feel my heart quicken at the sight of honeyeaters dashing from flowerets to seedheads.
I await my brother's arrival for the opportunity to make some minor repairs to structures and adjustments to, for example, the way the grapevine is NOT climbing where it's meant to.
Today is somewhat chilly with an erratic wind. The counterpoint calls of pigeons carry across from another roof top and seem to be a series of communications on what can be seen from that higher vantage point.
I was galled by my own lack of courage at our last choir practice on Wednesday. Our leader read the letter from the Hamer Hall "Raising the Roof" organiser and hammed it up because he used so many superlatives, creating agreement for what an idiot the guy was, instead of letting us "get" his appreciation and allow ourselves to be acknowledged. At the time I was outraged but afraid of my speaking being righteous, rather than feeling able to enrol everyone in another point of view. When they'd finished jeering and sneering, I quietly asked if I could have the letter, "for my scrapbook". I have not yet spoken to the choir leader or anyone else except my mother about it, and see how this impacts my relationship now to the choir. Bored with it, wanting to have singing equate to quality time, possibly applying for a grant to set up a different kind of choir. What's been missing this entire time is a stand and creativity. I'm inventing the possibility of moving on, and this is a victory over the past because I have been so attached to not rocking the boat, and to being liked.