Having consumed too much caffeine earlier today, er, I mean Saturday, and by nature, being an oil burning night owl, I find myself sitting here in the quiet of my new, little, blue ceilinged french dining room, turned music room, turned office, listening to the gentle patter of the rain falling on dried tendrils of grass that so desperately needed sustenance, trying to write a one sentence post at 3:25 in the a.m.
It feels rather cozy to be sitting here in this place that has now become my space, letting the rain soak into my soul as it stirs up possibilities of things to come on this adventure I call writing.
Sitting here feels right. This space has me wrapped in the soft cotton of creativity just bursting at the seams. Or, it could just be the Mountain Dew talking. I am embracing the change and settling in to a new rhythm. Once the transition is more complete I will share the wherefores and why so’s with you.
For now, I just wanted to see how the writing felt. Here. Under the blue ceiling, with the rain just outside my window.
Soaking in Grace,