Connemara Fieldtrip

I was sitting on my bench rambling and here is what I came up with, seemed an appropriate reflection - 

I am sitting on a bench underneath a canopy of leafy green trees. All around me are scenes begging to be captured with my camera's lens. There are two white gates containing fields of long grasses and the air is heavy with the threat of rain. 

I am not sure what it is about gates that intrigues me. Perhaps it falls into the same fascination I have for windows and doorways- the promise of  possibility, the idea of something new.

So much of this summer is about new ideas and possibilities and so in many ways I am walking through all these various doorways. I am giving into my worries of writing and not being good enough. I am allowing myself to write poorly so that I can get better in this slice of time that I have been granted. 

Experimenting with new ideas , new thoughts, new freedom. 

Carl Sandburg was a man of substance. Very grounded but with a head full of knowledge as shown by the variety of what he read. As a reader I envy all of his books, bookshelves and time to read. 

As a writer I am humbled by his ability to use all that knowledge and create writing for the masses. His writing is honest and poignant and completely attainable. 

Its amazing to me to be able to wander his property, witness the amazing relationship in photos  that he shared with his wife and see what his life might have been like at one time. What a sanctuary he found for his writing soul. 

Now, this sanctuary is used to restore many souls. I listen to the voices of little children, so excited to see the goats. Families exploring together, oder couples ambling along the paths hands clasped still deeply in love all these years later. This was a home and it must have been happy because places have memories...