iz isn't so sure2

Day Ninety-four: IZ isn’t so sure about summer ending.

Here we are. The last day of summer. Did you do something amazing, something summer worthy today? I spent the day as I usually do, attempting to restore order to the chaos around me. Despite my domestic slaying,  I couldn’t escape the thought, “So, this was summer.” It wasn’t what I expected… and I didn’t do everything I set out to do. But then, that could be said of any day of the week, any week of the month. . .

I will tell you that I’ve throughly loved blogging every day. When I began this journey, I wasn’t really sure I would. In fact, I was a bit intimidated. What if I couldn’t come up with a photo each day? What if I got writer’s block? I was surprised how quickly I got over those hurdles, let go of the perfectionism, and emmersed myself in the process. Sure, not every photo was  newsworthy, nor was every post scintillating, but the process has kept me focused. I don’t feel like my summer just slipped away.

I will also tell you this has been a lonely process at times. Why is that people read but rarely comment? Or only leave comments on Facebook? Don’t get me wrong, commenting isn’t mandatory. I’ll love you just as much as I ever did if you only thumbs up my posts on facebook—but blogging everyday has put the commenting situation on Evidently in stark relief… and it’s something I’m evaluating.  It certainly caused me to pause and look at my commenting habits! In an attempt to pry out the log in my own eye, I’ve redoubled my efforts to be present on blogs I’ve only lurked on in the past. I’m not drawing conclusions, just observing. I suppose I’ll have more to say when I can put my finger on the problem.

I do want to say, “Thank YOU!” to those of you who have traveled with me so faithfully. I appreciate your company more than I can say. It’s been an amazing 94 days and the fall has so much in store for us. I’m ready. Are you?

So! This is it. The end. I’m no fan of goodbyes, so I think I’ll let the final words on this summer be those of a beloved poet:

Lovely joy left blank, perhaps you are
the center of all my labors and my loves.
If I’ve wept for you so much, it’s because
I preferred you among so many outlined joys. ~~Rilke