Some days I am yellow and warm-hearted, living in tune to place and people, eyes opened, soul stirring, skin pricked, attached to nothing and everything.
Dear Diary,
This last winter and early spring was difficult, the worst times I've had since the winter John died and the following spring when I was so ill, I did not know if I would survive. That was 2016-2017. I posted this because I am painting my door this color. Smiling. And because I now feel like it is summer though that date is not officially here. But it's swimming temperatures, and I planted some very special yellow/orangey Petunias today. Although I face a few challenges, I survived the end of last year and the earlier part of this year and began work again on the first of April. Now I am pushing full speed ahead with several projects, including house repairs and painting.I've returned to my Brian Molko project, along with my novel and feel very confident in both efforts. I tend to thrive in the heat. Many people do not, but I was born and reared in the hot Mississippi Delta. We did not even have an air condition until I was about ten years old. An attic fan was all we used. Windows were screened but the glass was raised all late spring and into the summer until cold temps returned. I have been thinking of my childhood a lot this year and I had such wonderful experiences. It was a sort of freedom that many children do not know today. We lived outside as children, riding bikes, playing soft ball, jumping ropes, volley ball, kick ball, tennis. We swam in pools and lakes. First person out the door, last person in the door—that was me. Oh, how I wish I could still do a cartwheel. Maybe next year. This is not really a selfie. Someone took this photo because I am wearing my favorite yellow shirt which I got off a sale rack at J.C. Penney's for $9 last spring. Normally, I never get a deal. I love yellow. It reminds me of summer, of my childhood, and keeps me anchored in some kind of possibility.
