May 25, 2005
I let the dogs run in the woods this morning, while I climbed the heart-attack hills, wading through trillium and some purple flower I didn't know. The purple flowers were like a new neighbor to whom I had not yet introduced my self. I stepped over streams and circled swamps herding the dogs away from the lake, away from the lake.
I have thought since my 100 words on purple prose I might want to add a little pastel to the book I am revising. I'm still learning about living. I'm still learning about writing. Those are good things.