Weekly Photo Challenge: Window

Here is Ian discovering a window.

Here is Ian discovering a window.

I am not sure what intrigued him more, the view outside or seeing his own reflection.  Whichever it was, hanging out with him continues to make the simplest things magical.

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Walking on Thin Ice

This post is a challenge from an online blogging course that I am taking called Build the Blog you Truly Love, facilitated by Liv Lane.  [but  you all know that … because, since  I was in my head and late to the assignment, this post did not make it to the linky thingy…and so it will go directly to you, my fellow inspired writers!]

My blog, which I engage occasionally, doesn’t have have any followers, nor has anyone stumbled upon me here.  My only readers are my friends who I have email and asked them to check out what I wrote and to et me know what they think.  Writing is something I love to do – I always have … And finally I am stepping out onto the ice.

When I was a little girl, my Dad and I sometimes walked on the frozen lake from our home to the local general store to get milk, crullers and a few odds and ends on a Saturday or Sunday morning.  It wasn’t a “traditional” thing that we did – it was occasional enough to make it special.  My Dad, at the time “commuted” from the city to our country home; arriving on Fridays and leaving again early Monday mornings.  This was long before telecommuting, or commuting in general,became trendy.

During one of our walks and chats I was telling my Dad a story that I had made up about a far away place where horses ran wild through thick forests, lush green meadows, with the highest waterfalls and the most amazing sunsets.  It was a magical place …There was a lot more to the story, a lot more detail … which unfortunately I did NOT write down.

The story was interesting and engaging enough for my Dad to say, “You should write this,”  followed by “Maybe you would want to be a writer one day.”  I laughed and said, “Dad, I don’t want to be a writer… I don’t want to live my life in a one room apartment with a typerwriter, alone … except for my cat, with nothing to eat except peanut butter and jelly, “

Granted at that time I had no clue what I really wanted to be; it’s still hard to know if I do.  But I LOVE to write.  And so, although it is scarey, as if the ice is thin here, I am willing to walk out to see what happens!