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.


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!