This morning I decided I would do those thousand words, but so far have only managed one hundred and thirty-one, but I have decided it doesn't matter. They are the first words of chapter six and I think they are pretty good words. I expect they might get swapped around, deleted or changed in some way, but I am happy with them. Isn't that what matters? Surely to have a few words that you are happy with is better than having lots of words that are just okay. Anyway, I thought I would share my one hundred and thirty-one words with you. Hope you like them too.
July dawns were like
notes of hope. They reminded the days to be bright, fresh and summery.
Sometimes the days forgot to read the notes,
or preferred to sit under rainclouds or hemmed in by thick walls of pollution. But
sometimes they paid attention. Today was a note reading day. I watched from my
window as the muted dawn-light revealed the purple shadows and sages of the
garden as a base coat, while gradually adding the bolder brushstrokes of
sunlight to transform the canvas into a kaleidoscope of dazzling colour. In
corner barrels, lupins boasted pink and blue, in hanging baskets, yellow
primroses glowed under the blush of red geraniums, and in the foreground, the huge
white rose bush Mum had loved presented a myriad of dew-covered buds, pregnant
with fragrance.
