At the beginning of the year in a Nancy Stohlman class, I dreamed a few dreams and wrote them out as 10-year goals. Those were divided into smaller ones, which were divvied up further so I now have a printed out list of what needs to be done by quarter, with a monthly checklist of things to do in each.  I’m happy to report it is going well despite my occasional forays into freak-outs when there are any curve balls thrown my way. For whatever reason, I respond well to lists. This new structure has also freed me of some of my worry, but not my anxiety. To ease that between acupuncture appointments, I’ve made the upper greenhouse whiter with paint and returned a few of the plants early from their usual summer hang out on the patio. Opening any window lets in the babble of the creek. Sometimes there’s a breeze. In the morning, the light is even more dazzling than this.

As with the past few summers, getting back to the labyrinth hasn’t happened as often as I would have preferred, so this space serves as a calming spot where I drink tea, eat apples, and lately, edit. I didn’t think this was where I’d be, but I embrace it. Having the year-end accomplishment list I made was a heavy lift because I aimed for acceptances with print. As of now, I have had work appear in two that I can already hold in my hand in June. Trust me, it’s extra thrilling because both include work from fellow writers I love and respect. Again and again and again, thank you Kim Chinquee for inclusion in Elm Leaves Journal’s Eclipse Issue and thank you to The Drevlow for accepting my piece for Issue 11 of Bull. (Look at those covers. I’d buy them even if I weren’t in them.) The year isn’t over, but with that spectacular success crossed off, I’m on to the next ones.

The book edit I did earlier this spring sat for weeks. I returned and have been correcting it at a line edit/add a red herring here/downplay this, but mention it hard enough to be memorable stage of editing. (And by the way, may I offer apologies to all my poor beta readers who read even part of this mess. Especially Chel! I am so sorry I didn’t know how to make it better in an earlier draft!) I did think this read through would have me patting myself on the back for the clever bits, and there were a few, but in this draft, it’s apparent it needs more fine-tuning and craft. (I read, learn more, and then take scissor blades to phrases I’ve refused to cut in previous drafts. Killing your darlings can be gruesome and brutal – especially when you set the cuttings on fire to warm your soul with their flame…but maybe that’s just me and my editing style.)  

Anyway, the problem is that I have perfectionist tendencies and could spend the next thirty years on two sentences if I wanted to, but if I want to reach the goals on my list, I can’t. So while I’m not going fast, I’m striving for this version to be the good enough draft which will aid me in the next step, but I also want it to be over already. Last night I ran into another area I wanted to cut and paste into a better flow, but allowed myself to rest instead of delving into that messy spot when it was nearly midnight. Today, refreshed, I’m going to tackle other things. The weather of western New York decides the flow of which work is tackled and when. Besides writing, there is wood. I’ve been putting up what I split and stacked last year. As another row in the shed gets filled, I am happily in awe. All the time spent last year working on splitting is paying off and for that, I’m grateful. Though I itch to finish the book, I visit the white room and calmly remind myself there will be other days where I’ll want to stay in from the heat or days when it’s too rainy, and move on to the next task with less worry. A change in perspective helps, and sometimes you see chipmunks hanging upside down, too.

Besides the enormous help I feel I received from Nancy’s course, goals aren’t met without hard choices being made. There’s a meme without attribution I saw somewhere and I liked it so much I wrote it down to remind myself of its truth: Marriage is hard. Divorce is hard. Choose your hard. Obesity is hard. Being fit is hard. Choose your hard. Being in debt is hard. Being financially disciplined is hard. Choose your hard. Communicating is hard. Not communicating is hard. Choose your hard. Life will never be easy. It will be always be hard, but we can choose our hard. Pick wisely. ~Proper accreditation to be placed here if I ever find it.

Early on in our relationship, Husband and I decided to follow the cliché of saving for a rainy day which helped when the roof was damaged, and now, for this.

Of course the calculated time saved on working on the broken tractor has been transferred to wagon problems, but I’m focusing on the good parts, here. He can now mow the lawn and leave me out of that chore altogether so I have more time to edit and notice the beautiful surprises like a mountain laurel in bloom. I didn’t plant it, but I happily share this unexpected delight from Mother Nature. Isn’t it pretty?

I’m also happy to report Bertie graduated her first round of obedience course. Here’s our happy grad, just before eating her mortise board.

So yes, there is slow, steady, sloggy progress going on here. We’re making choices and enjoying the side benefits. After I post this, I’m going to pick fresh, ripe and sun warmed blackberries from bushes I transplanted last year to a more convenient spot, where happily, they took.

May all your goals be possible to reach and all your roots grow deep. Thank you for stopping by and for the read!