I’ve always like this word. Flow. And wondered if it were both noun and verb that captures sound and feel of the thing described. To say it is like breathing. Try it. The smooth round word pours from the tongue, teeth, lips of its own weight, moving without effort downstream, downtime, immediate, eternal and suspended.
But forgive me. That was just my hands warming to the white page empty space morning.
FLOW. That was where I was heading. For Love of Water. Hot at Sundance, not yet available on DVD. I’m thinking that, if our Earth Day event raises water awareness in our community, THIS would be a great documentary for later in the summer–maybe by then a showing in the new library conference room! Do take a look at the video clips from and about the film and the issues in it over at Waterblogged.
Flow. Work flow. Better now, thanks for asking (I know you were about to.) I am thoroughly happy to be fully reborn into the Mac world, and working more efficiently than ever. Logitech Revolution wireless mouse is a pleasure, the scroll wheel freeflowing smooth as silk, buttons all customized within each application to save keystokes and mouse miles. DevonThinkPro (the only software other than AppZapper purchased since getting the system) is a bit hard to learn but now I’m using it for all my major writing projects.
Flow. We speak of time flowing, like water out my window flickering in Goose Creek falling from a higher place called the past, heading downstream bound for the future, relentless, silent beyond the glass, inexorable, time flows. Which is to say: I’ve seen signs of the current of time towards the future that is yet another spring. (We see only three score and ten of them, three score and twenty if God is gracious. How precious each spring becomes knowing there are not many left). Coltsfoot. One bloom only by the lilac out the back door, west facing–a scout sent to report back to legions of its kind teeming just below ground.
Flows together pretty nice, eh?
stopping by your page to see if spring is yet beckoning back home… and was happy to see this.
it’s just about to burst forth down here in sc, too.
your words flow almost breathlessly in this post, and i felt the cold wet slurp of the still-winter chilled water, even without the photograph.
I’ve been out looking for sentinels of bloodroot, spring beauty, and hepatica. They’re still hiding under the leaves.