Spring

I don’t find it at all odd that a season associated with new birth and restored life is such a tumultuous one. Birth is as stormy a process as it is beautiful. The intense weather of Spring brings vibrant colors to life. The metaphor to humanity shouldn’t be lost on us.

A Few Moments Ago

I was watering a plant. I water this plant every weekend. Yet, for some reason, I leaned in close this evening as I did so. Something different happened: I smelled the plant. You know the smell that I’m talking about: soil and living green leaves engaged in their oxygen purifying gift to us. That smell took me back to my childhood in a rural area: an instant of nostalgia that unexpectedly paused my evening. 

I wish my evenings paused like that more often. How can one water a plant and not smell its scent? Are we really that busy? 

Flexibility and Inspiration

I listened to a reading of this poem by a dystopian science fiction writer who also wrote children’s literature. He wrote a poem that is a primer for the alphabet for small children. It was absolutely adorable. I cannot wait until my daughter is old enough for me to read it to her. I was so inspired by this writer’s artistic flexibility. I write science fiction, frequently dystopian science fiction. But I want to write children’s literature, as well. I want to write the things that inspire children to love with the same virtual pen that I write the portraits of a society potentially gone wrong. I want to have that flexibility. My daughter inspires me toward it.

Inspiration is a beautiful thing.