gives you quantity but not necessarily quality. I mean, really. What was I thinking saying I'd blog every day? I obviously wasn't thinking of times like this, when the kids are tucked into bed and I want nothing more than to crawl between the sheets myself and put another day's worth of didn't-do-it's to rest.
I was thinking the habit of journaling daily would do me good. And maybe it has, somehow. It's given my consistency while other things that had been habitual in my life shift and drop away. But have I written elsewhere or otherwise, even knowing I'll be seeing my writer's group Thursday? Uh... no. Not really. Not yet.
Here's something from Gerard Manley Hopkins. I think I first read it in High School. Those of you who did not have Mr. Skinner for English may not know it as well:
Spring and Fall: To a Young Child
MARGARET, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie.
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
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