Another season is upon us, and my little hobby blog has lain neglected again. While I've never given up on it entirely, I've refused to let the extended silence bother me too much. It's one thing to be stressed by leisure in a group setting, where the commitment of others depends on your own; it's quite another to be vexed by a solo activity, especially such a one without schedule, quotas, or accountability beyond the dictates of my own conscience. At least, that's what I keep telling myself when the doubts creep in: the world will not end if I go another month without posting.
There has been many a thought bouncing around these last couple months that I've considered recording, but little that fit the confines of my front-garden concept. And with regular naptimes all but disappearing, if I'm to carve out the time to write, it better be for something I feel is safe to say.
For herein hides the discipline in my unfettered blogger's existence: stay in the front yard. The trophy room, the bedroom, and the confession booth all exist in my mind, but they're hardly fit for public consumption. An occasional trip to the kitchen is allowed, and perhaps the bathroom (it's an occupational hazard of minding toddlers), but certainly not the soap box. I'm not exactly sure how I set up that reality-TV- style rant station, but that thing has got to go. My mind's house could use a little renovation; maybe a lock on the computer room door and trails of jelly beans leading me to the library - not to mention the prayer corner.
I'm not saying that there isn't beauty to be found behind closed doors, or merit in exposing more of my less-than-fabulous moments. I say only that I'm wont to share them out of the context of real-time conversation. It's that immediate feed-back of questions and comments, those facial and vocal reactions, and the chance for reciprocal sharing that shift my perspectives, redefine my experiences, and keep me from obsessing over whether I misspoke.
So I'll stay mainly in the public-domain lovely, and wax poetical from time to time on the blues and golds that sift through refractions in the snow. If you're hoping for something a little more gritty, you'll just have to come over for coffee (and skype coffees totally count).
Happy various and sundry holidays of fall and winter past. I will write again.