Sometimes being a writer can be, in a word, frustrating.  Trying to release the stories in your mind, the action, the inspiriataion, can become overwhelming.  And then I read a quote like this, one that helps explain the reasoning, the desire to press forward.

“What did I want?
I wanted a Roc's egg. I wanted a harem loaded with lovely odalisques less than the dust beneath my chariot wheels, the rust that never stained my sword,. I wanted raw red gold in nuggets the size of your fist and feed that lousy claim jumper to the huskies! I wanted to get u feeling brisk and go out and break some lances, then pick a like wench for my droit du seigneur--I wanted to stand up to the Baron and dare him to touch my wench! I wanted to hear the purple water chuckling against the skin of the Nancy Lee in the cool of the morning watch and not another sound, nor any movement save the slow tilting of the wings of the albatross that had been pacing us the last thousand miles.

 I wanted the hurtling moons of Barsoom. I wanted Storisende and Poictesme, and Holmes shaking me awake to tell me, "The game's afoot!" I wanted to float down the Mississippi on a raft and elude a mob in company with the Duke of Bilgewater and the Lost Dauphin.

 I wanted Prestor John, and Excalibur held by a moon-white arm out of a silent lake. I wanted to sail with Ulysses and with Tros of Samothrace and eat the lotus in a land that seemed always afternoon. I wanted the feeling of romance and the sense of wonder I had known as a kid. I wanted the world to be what they had promised me it was going to be--instead of the tawdry, lousy, fouled-up mess it is.”
― Robert A. Heinlein, Glory Road

Mountain Blue Jays

A Mountain Blue Jay, and friends, have been landing in our backyard over the past few weeks.  Their vivid blue color speaks out against the drab brown and yellow grasses that are poking up from the remainders of our snow.  I'm hungry for their color, such a stark contrast from the white I am used to seeing, that my eyes follow wherever they fly.

On a drive up the valley along the Wind River mountains they zig-zag and fly across the road.  So many!  Even when we get a spring snow storm they stay, unalarmed by the sharp change in temperature and the ice that gathers in the corner of my window.