Sunday morning

May 22, 2016 § Leave a comment

It is a quiet morning and I don’t have to go to work. And I don’t have to go to work tomorrow, either.

Writing is transformative. Even writing to an imagined reader, a non-existent reader, is transformative, because, in effect, I am writing to myself. I am writing to my own imagined reader, and in the process, I am in dialogue with myself. This dialogue constitutes dialogic imagination. The possibility for dialogic imagination emerges through the process of writing to myself.

Yesterday we worked a hard day on our own place. We were up early to pick up a rototiller from the equipment rental company. It was an 8 hp rear tine rototiller, too heavy to lift into the back of the truck. Instead, it had to be run up a ramp to get onto the flat bed of my truck. I would have been too scared to attempt such a maneuver, but, luckily DH (Dear Husband) was with me and he drove it up.

When we got home it was time to walk the dog before any further work. After I got back from the dog walk, we did the next task on our list. We headed out for coffee at our favourite coffee shop.

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