* At the last writing conference I attended, Jeff Savage taught a fun class and I had to laugh at myself for all the wrong things I'm guilty of. (Of which I'm guilty?) If I couldn't laugh when he pointed them out, where would I be? Crying? It's better to laugh than cry. One of the things he scoffed at was "Purple Prose." Umm... guilty! However, in my defense, my ridiculously metaphorical writing is not for show. It's not because I want to impress anybody. It's just the way I think! Similes and metaphors are the bread and butter of my imagination. (Wow, I did that without realizing what I was doing. Honestly. Do you see what I'm saying? I can't help myself.) I honestly imagine little goblins biting my skin when the wind whips around me. I honestly think the mountains are lazily sleeping when I look up at them. My brain functions in metaphor.
* When I dropped the twins off at preschool this morning, we heard a fire engine's sirens blaring nearby. We stopped and turned around to watch it pass, but suddenly the lights went off and the engine was silent. I watched the students across the street, waiting at the crosswalk, turn their heads together to watch the approaching engine. It came crawling through the street and I didn't understand why. Was the emergency suddenly cancelled? Never mind, folks. Let's head back to the station! Or.. what? Just as I started entertaining these questions, the engine roared back to life with a whir of sound and flashing lights.
It hit me suddenly: this is a school zone. Flashing yellow lights by the "20 MPH zone" trump the flashing red fire engine lights any day. Those kids all waiting innocently across the street could be my kids: my impetuous little Thomas or my speedy little Elijah. I don't know why it affected me so profoundly, but I cried as I walked into the school. Children are so valuable. Children are so innocent. Protecting the children is important enough for the blaring fire engines and ambulances to slow down and watch carefully. Am I slowing down in my life to protect my children emotionally?
* Winter popped its head around the corner this morning to say hello. "Hi! Remember me? Just wanted to check in and let you know I'll be home soon!" I'm delighted. The plunging temperatures are nothing but good news to my overly-hot, pregnant body. And the rain! Ahhh, if I were ever to compose a very Purple Prose sonnet, it would be about the rain. I love the sound, the smell, the clear air and even the swampy lake that develops in my back yard. (I could choose to be bitter that the contractor of the home behind us didn't put in a retaining wall to keep their bloomin' water where it BELONGS (thank you very much) but I try to enjoy the seasonal pond instead.) The kids put on rain boots and go stomping in the temporary marsh. What fun!
* Could there possibly be a more lovely season than Autumn? To me, Autumn is the time of year for falling in love. Perhaps it's because it was Autumn when I realized suddenly that I was in love with the man who later became my husband. What a shocking revelation that was to me! Now I fall in love with the whole world each Autumn: the red and orange leaves, the warm pumpkin pie, the apple cider, huge apples from the Farmer's Market. Ah, Autumn!