I'm going to write about my old farmhouse in the country; my cobbled-together life of writing, editing and teaching; my crotchety and darling aging poodles; my mystery series, which straddles the line between cozy and hard-boiled; my primitive rug hookings; my poetry; and how my life with another writer just keeps getting more interesting after twenty years of unwedded bliss.
I want to look at the seams, where we're almost coming apart, how we hold together. Or to examine the way the flaws allow us into pieces of art--be they poems or bowls or rugs. I want to praise hand work in all its forms, even if its just painting a wall or weeding a garden or washing the dishes. All the traces we leave of our movements through the world.
I want this blog to be one of my traces. Will there be flaws? You betcha.
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