August 8, 2012
A solitary day. I seem to need one whenever I land back in my nest. I walk, paint a couple of dinged up walls, answer mail, return calls. The flowers are from a mimosa tree near my house, and they always remind me of childhood. There was a tree like it in my yard then and I thought it was completely magical. Fluffy, pink and orange, the blossoms looked far too exotic for a small town in PA, but somehow they were mine. The improbable, perhaps, being the best predictor of the future.