Emily Dickinson. [1830-1886] INDIAN SUMMER.
What: You go to your own particular writing place and close the door on the world.
Its quiet here now. Just me up and about. There are horses to feed later and other animals but I can do my 500 words now with the heat of an old summer on me and kookaburras all about as they have been all week. I sat by my sister as she passed away the other day. My younger sister. Then there were people all about and we talked and wept and laughed.
Now I am home for the weekend before going South to farewell her amongst the mega family.
It’s about the Indian Summer and here we are with the heat and blue skies which we didn’t have in early summertime at all.
We have more birds than Emily seems to have in her writing. The lorikeets come every day and the satin bower birds. This week, kookaburras have sat on the fence poles and the lower branches of the tree near the Cottage and fed on worms and other critters.
I look backwards – take a backward look – as we prepare for my sister’s funeral. I search through old photos and memories come unasked for when I lie down and try to sleep. A backward look to young girls and young women in the spring and summertimes of their lives. Now I am an old woman looking back and she is gone. That thought cuts my 500 word quota short.
I am tired now.
Now where are you? Is this quite what you had in mind when you first set out on your most recent journey? There are two things to consider here: 1. The journey isn’t over yet; 2. You need more time to get used to what’s happening. Even the finest things can seem undesirable when they are strangely unfamiliar. Life is obliging you to look at factors and issues that you would far prefer to draw a discreet veil over. Once you overcome your initial reluctance and resistance, you will start to make a series of valuable discoveries that radically alter your understanding of what’s possible. As the powerful moon grows full, your future can be revealed… and changed.