Hello solitude, my old friend.
I’ve come to stay with you again…
I am a solitary person by nature. My comfort zone is a combination of introversion and solitude. That isn’t to say I can’t ‘extrovert’ with the best of ’em. I prefer not to. I require a great deal of solitude, and I guard my alone time jealously.
I live in a small house on a corner lot in a small, rural town with the claims to fame being practically in the heart of the Dust Bowl of the 1930s and for producing broomcorn at the height of the broomcorn farming era (perhaps a blog for a different time).
My solitude happy places are my backyard and my basement.
Generally, late March through November, the weather is pleasant enough to be outside at different times of the day depending upon the time of year. I like to read, watch clouds, listen to the menagerie of noises, and the birds at the feeder are always entertaining. My cats and dogs sit with me on the rocking porch swing. I am particularly at peace at sunset.
My basement is my primary place of solitude. I am happy and content among my books and my wall art, which are framed movie posters and Old West maps.
I have a comfy chair, computer, music and/or movies when my mood requires them, and my cats and dogs wander in and out at will. I do most of my writing in my basement.
Until next time,
writing through history one romance upon a time