Wildflowers..

She dreamed of daises and fields of wildflowers, a little place to call her own. Nestled under a maple tree, beside the brambly hedges she would sit and fill her notebooks, with the songs of her heart.

....

The morning sunshine..

The was something about the morning sunshine.. It was as if her faithful typewriter would suddenly play its own tune. Some mornings by the open window it almost knew the words before she had begun to tap the rusty keys.

...

And so it begins...

Finally the mail has arrived and inside a sweet little package from Notemaker were six very delightful moleskine cahier journals just waiting to be stained with ink.

And so my year of writing begins.. with some words from 'Writing Down the Bones' my soul sings as the words pour onto the page.

The adventure begins...