This morning I’m writing Part 4 of The Taking (my special thanks to site subscribers Vicki and Dawn for their recent comments and feedback on the story so far). And Murphy is keeping me company (as he always does, similarly to Arthur Conan Doyle’s co-writer in the picture above).
As I sat and thought, in this time of unique–unprecedented–events and concerns, I recalled something. A contemplative piece from J.R.R Tolkien:
“I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen
Of meadow flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been
Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair
I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see
For still there are so many things
That I have never seen
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green
I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago
And people that will see a world
That I shall never know
But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door”
― J.R.R. Tolkien
And now Alpha and Beta are starting to stir–the sound of feet and voices in the hall–and Murphy is ‘Cats in the Cradle‘ing me: “Thanks for the ball dad, c’mon lets play.” So time for some ball kicking, chasing and bringing back to kick again, after which I get to trim tree limbs with a new chainsaw (outdoorsy stuff). Then back to writing (Yay!). Watch for part 4.
