The writer in me is restless but can’t seem to find the words to put down on the pages.  Instead, I find I’m scribbling ideas on note cards and stacking them on my desk to do something with them later.  Although avoiding my garden’s siren call is difficult, maybe this lovely change in the weather will help to inspire me to sit down and organize my scribbles into a coherent package.  I need to get more words on the page and fewer half-baked ideas on note cards.

     My note card stack has reached toppling level.  Walk past my desk, the stack wobbles and threatens to fall.  Even the dogs have learned to tip-toe past.

     I have blank note cards with pens in every room of the house, my car, and my purse.  No idea has gone off into the ozone over the last month, which is quite an improvement over recent months.