Since I started blogging there have many times I've had dry spells where I just didn't know what I could say. This last two weeks have been different I have so much to say that I can't decide what to say first. So nothing came out.
Picture a river in the northwest jammed with logs. I am carefully walking out on the mass of logs using my Peavey hook to balance with. Or maybe it's a PowerBook sitting on my couch, I forget. If I'm not careful, once free, the moving logs could crush me. Do I take that chance or do I wait until summer when the raging current from the melting snow bank has subsided? I can't wait. The ideas flow, and I fall into the water. Standing in the mud I realize it's only a foot deep. Idea's formed by words take on any shape we want.
new_shroom.jpg by anson © 2012
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