Imbolc Waxing Bloodroot Moon
Snow has begun to come down in earnest. I like the view out of my window here in the Bishop’s room. Snow falls between the two pines that frame the central pane and I can see across the service road toward what I now know is the Monastery orchard. This is a wonderful piece of land, wooded in parts, with two lakes and ample space for agriculture. The Monastery did have a large farm at one time.
I’ve decided I’ll head home tomorrow afternoon. I’m a bit lonely here now and I want to see Kate and the dogs. Since I get my writing done in the morning, sometimes a bit after lunch, I can write tomorrow morning, eat lunch and head out. That way I can be back at my desk on Tuesday morning, ready to keep on writing.
So ancientrails will hit the road around 1 pm tomorrow, driving east on Highway 12, then north on 494.
Breakfast today is at 8, not 7:30. Feels pretty soft, writing here at 7:50 instead of dining in silence. The Monastery is a great place to focus on writing and I think I’ll return when it comes time to revise one of my earlier works, perhaps in January. Once I finish the first draft of Missing, I’ll have Kate read it and comment on it, perhaps Lydia, then I’ll set in a manuscript box on the shelf in my study. 6 months or so later, I’ll take it out and read it like a stranger, making the first cuts and revisions.
Though I’ve not practiced it, they say writing is in the re-writing and I believe it.