The muse has left me.
I have been blogging for a month now, and I have nothing new to say.
Earlier this week I posted a blog about all the green beginning to emerge in my garden. Excited by the promise of spring blooms and encouraged by the warm, sunny weather, I spent two days raking, cleaning up my large porch planter, and transporting several loads of leaves and dirt to the compost pile. But then my body said, "Enough!" I retreated to my couch the rest of the day, feeling sorry for myself that my youthful spirit and mind are housed in this tired, middle-aged body.
Then the rains came. The wind blew. And blew.
I became preoccupied with other necessary chores--running errands, long-overdue cleaning projects, and even working at a "real" job for a day. Somewhere in the midst of all this my muse retreated into unknown regions. I began surfing blogsites, vicariously enjoying the blossoms and wildlife others were seeing outside their windows. I enjoyed virtual travel to far-off places, from Guatemala to Italy to the United Kingdom (my personal favorite for a visit outside the U.S.).
I looked outside my window for an inspiration, something I could share with my new blogging friends. The daffodils were already blooming, but several were bowed over from the struggle to survive the strong winds. The hyacinths were emerging from their nesting places, but the rain kept me from photographing them. The lilac bush and the crabapple trees were beginning to bud, but freezing temperatures are predicted this weekend. And so I began to worry--will they survive the freeze or will they fail to bloom like last year? And another worry--my front yard is littered with shingles, the result of the storms and winds the last few days. Sigh. Looks like I'll be getting a new roof soon instead of the new carpeting I have been waiting for so long.
And still there is nothing new to say.
Please forgive my sounds of self-pity: it must be the rain inside my head. I think I'll just wait it out and go take a nap instead.