To continue here...or not...that was the question.

Obviously, I have not posted here in a while. Perhaps it has been the heat, a little malaise, the re-entry to the world after Covid, and also wondering if I wanted to continue with this site. I’ve been pondering and weighing things in my mind and heart. Time seems to be an issue. I am working on editing They Persisted and I want to have it republished. I am also compiling material for the next book, They Roared, a collection of women from the same period that were journalists, muck rakers, test pilots and more.

My web host changes things up and I don’t like it. Change and technology combined are quite a challenge for me. Either alone is quite enough of a challenge! Also, there was the fee to continue for another couple of years. If I close the site I’m not sure there is any way to capture the four plus years of posts. I don’t particularly want to lose them.

Is it all worth it? I am not sure! I have signed on for another two years and I hope that I can make peace with the technology. My goal is to gain more readers and share these women with more people. There are so many women's lives to share. They still call to me and I guess that is the main reason I have decided to continue.

I’ve decided to post once a week, on Sunday. Yes, I know today is Monday, but it is after all, a holiday weekend! The women still call to me and as long as someone reads about them, I guess it is worth while.

The Summer Day

Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper, I mean- the one who has flung herself out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out of my hand, who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down- who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes. Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face. Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away. I don't know exactly what a prayer is. I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day. Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do With your one wild and precious life?

Mary Oliver