This is a prairie dog hole, in case you’re wondering. Big enough to swallow a chihuahua.
For anyone who cares (and that might be a number limited to the fingers on one hand), no, I haven’t died. I’m not sick, I’ve been in remarkably good physical shape since late 2019. Not a cold, nary a sniffle, no headaches. No cancer or heart condition or broken bones. And no, I haven’t given up writing, or making jewelry, or fashioning baskets out of pine needles.
I’ve been in semi-hibernation, which coincided with a brutal late winter and a spring that had been delayed for whatever meteorological reasons God has decided. It’s just now spring-like, and fer God’s sake it’s almost June! Living in Colorado, you cannot rely upon the calendar to make decisions, like when to plant potatoes and tomatoes and when to put your winter clothes away. It’s snowed in June. The threat of hail is a daily concern. (Last Saturday, I participated in the run up to the Shrine, and mile 2 and 3 it rained and hailed like crazy.) To be fair, the weather is quite changeable from one extreme to the other. We’ve already had 80 degree days in April.
The inn has been crazy busy the last few months, even with a virus to contend with. I think people are looking to escape, and this isn’t far from the metro areas, so you don’t have to fly. (I’m not sure I will ever fly again, so I get it.) However, finding reliable help hasn’t been easy. In fact, it’s been the most daunting of the challenges we face right now. It’s easy enough to replace broken furniture and faded bedding or to repair a structure, but people…that’s another story. (Maybe I’ll write a book!) Finding people to work is the most difficult task these days, so my husband and I are the ones who are doing most of the menial tasks you’d associate with an inn.
The other reason for hibernating was to get in touch with something other than the Internet. Oh, the online world! So vast, like a black hole, so easy to get swept into! I used to find positive influences online, but now it’s mostly vitriol, lies, and hate. We have also given up commercial TV (especially news) since January, instead watching recorded TV shows or movies. We’ve become fond of Turner Classic Movies, not only because it offers vintage movies which are so much more inventive and entertaining than modern fare, but because the only commercials on it are for their own programming. Now when I see commercial TV, it’s not just the programming that turns my stomach, it’s also the inane commercials. (I do allow myself some news, so I’m not completely under a rock.)
I’ve filled my days with walking (or running), and with reading. I have some strong opinions about life in general and the future of writing in particular, and while I haven’t published any of my thoughts (yet) I guarantee that someday you’ll hear from me.
I might have stayed in my hole forever, except I do find an inescapable urge to write. Yesterday, I happened upon some notes I took in my phone from the last San Francisco Writers Conference I attended (2020 and just before the pandemic – seems like a decade ago). No conference this year, but my notes brought me back. Jolted me back, actually. I need to edit my novels, and maybe write something new. These few sentences had a more positive influence on my enthusiasm than anything. Like seeds warmed by spring sun, my head has finally gotten to the point of germination.
I knew it would. This isn’t the longest sabbatical I’ve taken from writing.
Sometimes a writer needs down time, to think, to observe, to relax, to get close to nature, to think about the right and wrong of people and the evenness of the universe. (Psst… It’s what we all need. Take the time.)
See you next time.
