I started my day with dark french roast and this sky. It seemed to me a good omen after a very rough couple of weeks. I felt as if I had transferred my angst to this sky, allowing me a bit of respite. I have been a bit in turmoil between all of the roles in my life, and it seems I need to spend more time home, more time with Rachael and Michael, and more time simply with the earth. There is no one thing that grounds me more than my faith and my garden. The world makes me profoundly sad, and I look to the earth for signs of resilience, of hope and every time I put my hands in the dirt, my noisy self is stilled and I come away whole. My garden is suffering a bit from a late freeze and the early arrival of Texas's brutal sun. I am adjusting with hardy Texas natives, and perhaps a bit of pampering for those plants not suited for 100 degrees in June. Yet despite the interruption of seasons, the garden is thriving, and my perennials are like long lost friends, my lilies nearly a month behind bloomed this week. I found myself much like an mother, awaiting the birth of a longed for child. I of course had to take their "birth" photo. I am hopeless. Here is my baby.

I finally broke my submitting hiatus and submitted to 4 journals last week, so far two have accepted my work and I have not yet heard from the other two, I am going to try to submit a few more of my older work that is mostly polished. Last year I wrote only about 70 poems, of which I might like 7-10, I am going through those and seeing if any speak to me, and I am slowly beginning to write again. Not in the way I have in the past, and writing feels awkward and foreign to me. My work once again is evolving and changing, and I am unsure about its direction. I also writing environmental poems, which are part of my "Taboo" list, for now I am writing them, but not submitting them, a compromise of sorts on my part. The Dallas Poets Community is updating their website and I have a page on their site, which is way cool beans.