Just as spring arrives on the calendar, the beginnings of what will become leaves appear as a kind of tender-green haze around bushes and trees and other branches. The leaves don’t appear to be attached, but rather, floating like a veil around the branches.
There are many kinds of therapy. Dirt therapy (gardening), fuzz therapy (petting an animal), lunch therapy (with friends). This is word therapy. I write, therefore I blog.
Small-town girl transplanted to various cities. Longs to live and work in the British Isles. Freelance writer and editor. Wants own column about words, grammar, and making writing better. Reads as if necessary to life (isn't it?). Overdeveloped sense of injustice. Optimistic to a fault. Interests other than various forms of writing and reading: black-and-white movies; British TV, movies, and miniseries; walking; observing and musing; what-iffing; sorting through a junk drawer; good food and fine company; gardening, as long as there’s no truly heavy labor involved. Mother of two sons. Married to an electrical engineer, Wyoming enthusiast, and sometime builder of Shaker-style furniture (one man; several enthusiasms).
No comments:
Post a Comment