Anticipating an Explosion of Lilacs
It has been months since I’ve added to my observations. During that time, I’ve been immersed in living, observing the changes that winter brought with its needle sharp icicles hanging from the back porch, the winter-weary cracks in the road, and the thick fur my cat grew to stay warm. The thaw is beginning, reluctant but steady. Birds are returning with their morning cacophony, and there are tiny sprouts of green in the garden. I’ve been hypnotized by the world of story, reading many excellent novels this winter including Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch, Colum McCann’s Transatlantic, Wally Lamb’s We Are Water, Baron Wormer’s Teach Us That Peace. I’ve also enjoyed the short story collections Hellkite by Geraldine Mills, Psychotic Episodes by Alan McMonagle, The Isle of Youth by Laura Van Den Berg, and many others. Fiction has taken hold in my creative life; my own short stories emerging seemingly from a place I cannot identify. All I know is that the characters come to me and I try my best to represent their yearnings.
April will arrive with somber colors but leave like a gaudy tourist. The insects will return, chirping and buzzing. My cat will slim down and lie lazily in a patch of sun on the porch. I will continue my walks past the grist mill and the river, inhaling what this is: another awakening.
Literary Imaginings by Lisa C. Taylor 