Night Time Rambles

The bottom of our garden is like a fairy tale

In the trees it’s dark as night, but you can still see the color of the leaves. The old, grey rowboat lying in front of the woods makes me think of something years and years ago, thought I’m not quite sure what.

It’s dark, but not exactly. There’s lightning and thunder. It just started to rain fat drops. I opened the door to look and our orange tabby named Emma ran outside, even though she hates storms and hides in the bathroom. I think she’s under the deck.

The birdy fellow died today
I don't know how
He just did

I think artists have a hard time doing anything consistently and this bothers me, because I don’t like not being able to decide what to write and how to write it

I am going through style renovations, then again, maybe not. But for right now, I like the informal sort of ramble that I’m doing. If you don’t mind. And that’s kind of too bad if you do.

 I like it for when I don’t have time to sit and compose. And it’s more like a journal. I did want to enjoy my blog. I like both styles—formal and informal. I hope you do too.

It’s raining really hard now. The door is open.

I have to go. I must read about Robert the Bruce.

Goodnight!

-Taralyn Rose-