The Artist Date is a dream-child of Julia Cameron. We’ve discussed her book, The Artist’s Way, and highly recommend both the book and the weekly date for anyone who wonders how to become a better writer. It can be life-changing. It can open your creativity like nothing else. Today, walk the dog around the house and keep your eyes open. The clover beckons.
The ground feels soft and springy under my bare feet and the pinkish, bobble-headed clover tickles that tender place in my arch. I’m careful where I step, mindful of the honeybees. The last bits of daylight eke over the edge of the horizon and I feel the temperature drop, the damp of dew settling in for the night.
I am walking the dog around the house, and this in-between hour with its amber light reminds me of when I was little and my sister insisted she heard two rabbits speaking to each other in the fading light of evening. My brothers and I knew this hour held magic and never doubted her. Now, as I round the corner of the house, I eye a long-eared cottontail dubiously. The dog keeps walking, oblivious to the trespasser’s presence.
We trace the warm brick of this place we live in and my mind is slipping back into checklists and chores when, suddenly, nightfall is announced with flashing lights. I blink into the rhododendron, squint my eyes in the dim light.
I spy a wink to my right and reach out a hand to cup the warm glow. But this winged luminescence escapes, disappearing into the thick dark. Only now, my eyes are open wide and I see each bush on fire with twinkling conversation. I stand in wonder, lingering.
The heavy rains this year have kept the earth saturated—pockets of moisture quench its thirsty crust and draw the fireflies from their hiding places. The meadow behind our home looks like Times Square in all this glow. They say the firefly flashes his light to attract a mate—a courtship ritual. I feel the wooing, so I drop the dog off just inside the door and head to the maple tree.
My eyes are momentarily night-blind as I recline under a leafy canopy alight with amber diamonds, letting a springy bed of clover cradle me. The moist air gathers on my skin.
A firefly lands on my knee. Flashes once. Twice. I am smitten.
Are you waiting for your writing life to begin? Have you wondered when you’ll discover the magic formula for getting inspired, improving your skills, getting published, and being part of a real writing community?
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Begins September 4 • Limited to 10 participants
Read a poem a day, become a better poet.
In August we’re exploring the theme Bottled and Canned.
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