Do other bloggers have this feeling?  The last week has been rich with blogging possibilities, but I remained silent.  I could tell you about my one hour alone in the local art museum.  I could tell you about the connection I felt to the artists and the nagging sense that I belong in that world of art…somewhere.  I could write about the maple syrup festival that we attended on Saturday, an annual venture that I’ve sadly missed over the last two years.  I would write about the muddy shoes, the amber syrup, and the bumpy bus ride next to my sweet, ginger-haired nephew.  Yes, I would love to write about that. 

Or, I could tell you about the long talks my husband and I have shared as we sort through all the factors of employment, insurance, and finance that whirl around our heads like a flock of mismatched birds waiting to land.  I would share our certainty that God is in control mixed with our human longing for some kind plan, some kind of answer. 

Or, I could write about the simple patterns of our days.  The drawing after drawing after drawing.  The little phonics books that our Kindergartener brings home from school.  The meals I’ve planned and prepared.  The yummy, super-hearty oatmeal cookies the boys and I made.  I could tell you about the tumbles that our toddler takes or the exciting plans the five-year-old makes for a “Danger Club” based upon the club at the library for which one must be 8 years old–a shocking disappointment.

Instead, I’m going to go back to grading papers and making plans for the remaining weeks of my school year.  The blogging possibilities are ripe and waiting like heavy bunches of grapes hanging low on drooping vines.  But they must wait.