cadence change

Simultaneously the huge, round spider and I frightened one another. On a precarious stool out front I swiped the big window, dislodging the unsuspecting arachnid. I’m sure she exclaimed something spiderish, while I said, “Oh! Ah! Ah!” and jumped backward. She scrambled beneath the window sill to remain completely hidden while I finished spraying, wiping, smearing, and buffing. Fortunately, most neighbors were at work and missed my song and dance. The ones who witnessed it remained politely anonymous, silent as the spider.

Why, on the first Monday in October, did window washing strike my fancy? Since around May I’ve planned to do it, but only now, when storms will soon blow rain against my north-facing bedroom glass, did I whip into cleaning action. Ah, well. At least my westerly view from the treadmill should remain much clearer. Boy, I hadn’t washed that window in a looonngg time.

Change has arrived with crisp mornings. Last Friday marked the first time in nine weeks that I didn’t send out two submissions, per my modest goal. After finally putting ten different pieces of writing out to editors, I allowed the shift in rhythm. I’m back to work on my memoir. New form, new title. Lots of helpful input by writer and reader friends.

I also have a new buddy at the keyboard:
Support in many forms infuses my days.

Now that October’s been breached, more reasons exist to let the writing momentum slow. They’re good reasons, peopled by loved ones beneath harvest moons. They wear spooky costumes and plan for meals with gravy and stuffing. They wax creative with ideas to wrap in bright paper and place under aromatic evergreens.

Summer’s writing pace will slacken, but autumn’s holiday sprinting won’t scare word work completely away. The web of mind will still interact with the clicking of keyboard, at least until somebody needs an eaarrly shopping partner the morning after Thanksgiving.