I spent a beautiful day in Kerrville with my friend Chris.  We originally met years ago at a Story Circle Conference, and today I was invited to attend her Kerrville chapter of that group.

The model of this group is not like my groups.  They rotate leadership, meet twice a month, and the leader provides prompts, and members read their writing only if they want to.  One of the topics of the day was names, how we feel about our names.  In listening to the readings, it struck me how connected we are not only to our own names but to the odd-sounding names of our great grandmothers and aunts, names that sound antique and beautiful.

There is no critique of writing; rather, the writing is used to stimulate conversations.  After the meeting, we went out to lunch together and I had the best chicken salad with cranberries.

I came home and straightened up my crafts supplies--again--having found no one yet to drill the holes to install my new shelves.  And I made one more page in my tiniest journal, a journal I bought years ago in Virginia, the cover of which is an old postcard.

As Emerson said, "The world laughs in flowers."

The theme for this little notebook that seems to be emerging is flowers.

I'm pairing the collage with quotations and writing related to the image, like this one:

“She wore flowers in her hair and carried magic secrets in her eyes. She spoke to no one. She spent hours on the riverbank. She smoked cigarettes and had midnight swims...”

― Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things