October was full of cookie baking, 5K walking, visiting grandgirls and celebrating birthdays, journeying to the north Georgia mountains in search of apples and the last of the season's tomatoes, speaking at the Keystone State Reading Association, and visiting friends along the way.
This week I'll can tomatoes and make applesauce. I'll order firewood. I'll get the car repaired. I'll make headway on the copyedited manuscript for Revolution. I'll work on a revision of a book about Bobby Kennedy that I've sold to Scholastic.
Then I'll travel to Keene, New Hampshire to speak at the children's literature festival there.
I do okay on facebook and twitter for a while, but I feel so naked. Why is that? Maybe because, as much as I like seeing what's happening with everyone else, it's just. so. noisy. And I like being quiet. I need the quiet. It feeds me (until it doesn't).
So I'll let go of facebook and twitter and I'll keep blogging, where it's nice and quiet (ha!), and I'll keep hanging around on pinterest, where I archive my research and keep track of what interests me. When I get a smartphone I'll probably check out instagram. I think I have it figured out, finally.
I'm curating my life through these various online sources, I see that now. I'm investigating ways to remember, ways of seeing, ways to archive, and ways to hold on to the days that slip from my hands so quickly. That's my purpose in having an online presence. I try to be clear with myself, so I can be honest about what I do and why I do it.
I can't hold on to the days, of course. It's all an illusion. But I like the illusion. I like it as much as I like quietly walking through the days, with a sense of wonder and gratitude, trying to be present. I look at these photos and realize how lucky I am, and how full is my life, and how essential it is to have good work to do.
No matter what, though, I always return to the center of things. I like being still. I like listening to the birds begin their chatter in the morning as the sun rises. I like the wind through the pines. I like the lacy curtain of leaves that drifts through the day. I like walking out into my day or cozying up to the fire with a blanket and a book. I like to work hard.
I like to come tell you these things and I'm not sure why. I don't even know who you are, but this kind of communicating feels quiet and authentic and okay to me. Not naked-making. It's my space, and I'm happy to have it. Happy to share it, too.