Down in the clover

It is seven o’clock in the evening as I sit writing this. It is warm outside with a nice breeze blowing. I sat on the back porch for a little while watching the clover dance in the wind and the black and yellow bees hop from the white flowers that rose out of the sea of green leaves. They looked like farmers picking cotton or tomatoes.bee1

The bees only stayed a moment at each flower and three of them were spread out in sort of a lopsided triangle. They all made their way through the clover patch at the same speed and in the same direction; but there was always one bee out front while the other two were back and to the side.

I feel a bit melancholy at the moment. I was hoping sitting outside would help. However, as I sat on the steps I was accosted by a door to door sales man attempting to sell me faster internet service. I politely listened to him, just because I could, then took his information before passing back a business card of my own. I mean why waste a chance to gain a new reader? If they are going to try to sell me something then turn about is fair play.

I am still feeling a bit down. The wind, clover, bees, and chatty salesman didn’t change that. The depression monster has walloped me good and I think I will just lay here a minute. I will get back up. I will continue to fight. But for now I will just take deep breaths and watch the bees in the clover a bit more.

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Published by: thecoffeefox

Once upon a time there was a woman who was a writer. She was either cursed or blessed from birth to be so and there was much debate on which it was. One day a very discouraging (and not very original) person told her not to give up her day job. The woman smiled and said that was a wonderful idea. Following the unwittingly clever advice of her critic, the woman found a job working nights, which left her days free to write. Even better, the night job had an unusual schedule which packed two weeks worth of work into one, so the writer was able to have every other week off to sit on her front porch, daydream, and of course write. However, working at night and writing during the day left little time for sleep, so the poor writer occasionally went a little mad, but she decided it was an acceptable price to pay to be able to continue following her curse-blessing. Also she likes tea. :)

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