It's been a green December, thus far. Unusual weather, especially after two very cold winters. Some sputtering snow yesterday, but nothing to speak of on the ground. The wind blew it all away.
The semester is officially over. Grades are in. I am trying to relax. It seems to be impossible to find that zone of quiet, with my arms loose at my side. I don't want to hold anything; not a pen, a book, a fistful of paper. I want to wander in the orchard's crisp air. Clear my thoughts of all the words that I've ingested over the semester-- some tender, some wise & thoughtful, some full of heartburn. I taught five writing intensive classes, 147 students (the most I've ever had) and directed an Arts Minor Program that sponsored over 8 Lecture & Art events over the semester that were so successful. Our audience attendance (Rochester and St. John Fisher community) ranged from 60-180. I'm grateful for all the collaborations, for all the people who said yes. Now it's time to imagine something else, but before I do, I plan on having a bit of good cheer.
Without expectation, I can be free of practically everything. Imagine that.
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