Hello lovely bloggers! I hope the summer has been good and kind to you, and you are all pushing forward with your creative dreams. Do you feel refreshed and eager to forge ahead?
September is my favourite month. It hides a birthday (nope! Not telling! But not a decade changer. *grins*) .
I always feel that birthdays are our individual New Year – the world does a personal pivot and everything and anything is possible. My favourite colours come out to play in September – the beautiful russet and gold-tarnished leaves, the smudged sunsets and chalky sunrises. The last display of the sun is always its most spectacular, reminding us not to forget as the year grows dark and gathers itself inside to crouch by the fire. The blues of the sky shine with a frosted tinge felt in the extremities of morning and evening. Blooms and blossoms are soporific with berries – a woodland walk during daylight hours smells warm and content. The natural world is slowly preparing its bed, although there’s plenty of time yet for one last waltz – Nature saves its best frocks for such an occasion, and dresses each tree and bush with extra garlands. There is so much potential in this magical time of year.
I’m having a bit of a slow dance with the novel at the moment. I feel like I’ve been precariously clinging to the side of commuter life but lost my grip earlier this year and got suddenly and rudely whooshed down the plug hole into the thick of it. There are no port-holes down there; it’s a whirl of Stuff, like a mini cyclone – all of it claiming panicked dominance one after the other after the other – no time to breathe, to take stock of what feels right, what feels important. Every so often I cling to a ledge and try to focus on my heart’s desire – at which point Stuff will shriek with laughter and tug at my arms until I’m back whirling again, all raggedly around the edges.
But occasionally a rope is thrown towards me from above - usually from Wise Lovely Friends, who know me very well indeed, and understand I’m prone to Stuff and Worries. Sometimes I even tear work shirts into strips and make my own escape rope – and although that is a far rarer occurrence; it does happen, as eventually even a whirly person gets fed up of being whirled and decides to take control.
So I’m clambering up again. I’ve got a holiday booked – a real-honest-to-God-proper-holiday – with beach, sun, swimming, and relaxing. A chance to have a think about where I’m going and what I want to achieve. And I think blogging regularly again will help massively – I’ve missed my connection with authors and artists – from self published stars to wannabe writers, from people up at 5am to scribble stories to people making scrapbooks for their next artistic project, from stylish bloggers who inspire with photography to thoughtful bloggers who make me think, smile, and plan perfect interiors for my castle in the sky. I’ve missed you all! You’re a big part of my creative life.
I’ll be back from my holiday on the 15th September – and will hopefully bring tales of azure sea and sun-kissed sand, of ancient white-washed stone houses guarded by olive trees, of bustling market places in fountain-splashed courtyards, of glistening harbours and boats laying anchor, and of a girl, her friend, their sketchbooks, and possibly a few stray cat buddies.