Getting ready for the dark evenings of winter

October 20, 2019

Talk about being remiss... 

It's been three weeks since I had time to blog. It's both amazing and annoying that I allowed myself to get that distracted with work. The organization I work for, a.k.a. The Day Job, hosted a regional conference. This will be the last time I organize a big event like this one before I retire, and I took every advantage to "do it up right."

If you're a regular here at Between the Keys, you know this year has brought major transitions to my door. My husband's health and subsequent surgeries, the death of my stepfather, the death of my writing buddy Chris Grover, the resignation of a much-appreciated CEO, all of which precipitated my decision to drop back to a four-day workweek.  

That's all history. In the present, I find myself quite discontent with my lack of writing focus. 

I've made several attempts to get back on my writing schedule. Where I went wrong on that was telling other people my plans. (Saboteur: one who practices sabotage.) I'm grateful I didn't have a publisher's deadline to meet. It would not have happened. But I can't blame anyone for the beautiful weather we enjoyed yesterday. It was my decision to go outside and "work" the afternoon away.

Two of my three acres are wooded so there is no lack of firewood to be found. Wood is a supplemental heat source. We simply burn those trees that die, fall over, or drop big limbs during windy weather. There's no need to harvest a healthy tree unless it grows to a size to threaten the house. Utilizing this resource allows us to cut our utility bills and to keep a park-like feel to the property. It works. 

Yes, it was my decision to forego writing yet again in favor of the great outdoors. Sometimes the allure of sunshine and the spicy cool air of autumn are too seductive to ignore. The long, dark evenings will be upon me in mere days and old habits can reassert themselves. 

I look forward to it. Writing really is a sort of addiction, but one that doesn't do much harm. A few missed television shows won't hurt me. The voices are waiting on me to tell the story, and telling the story feeds my soul. I won't let them, or myself, down. I've been quietly preparing even as my hands have been busy fulfilling other obligations. 

To every thing there is a season, even to the renewal of the writer. 


KC Kendricks
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