What a strange feeling for someone who has been known for talking too much...to actually, factually, and tactually run out of things to write.
I could write about my inability to fit with Easter, although I have tried for decades to believe in this. It just ain't gonna happen and writing about it will only alienate those for whom it is a deeply important personal time. I could write about needing a Manners Manual for what to do when your family wants you to come for Easter and in the middle of the day they are planning on going to mass. ( I was baptized Catholic but raised myself as a Methodist and raised my children the same.) Now I am just a spiritual wanderer, happy when others pray for me, but not expecting any miracles.
I could write about the tease and temptress that spring is. Going from 49F in the midday to 80F on another midday and me doing a plant dance of covering and then uncovering and then watering and then sheltering from too much rain all the little plants that I want to survive this year. They are pushing their leaves against their plastic lids!!
I could write a long treatise on my plant ignorance having learned two days ago at a training session that sugar maple trees are most foolish to plant in the mid-Atlantic as Maine is even having problems keeping them alive as the weather warms more each year.
I could write about how I miss my husband but now that I have less than a week until he returns, I am a little sad about losing my independent days and the freedom of odd meals and even odder mealtimes.
Or, I could just be lazy and say I have nothing to write about! Your turn.