My picture book memoir
It's taken years to get to this point. And that may be the best thing that could have happened. I fretted over it, stopped, started, and put it aside so many times.
It just wasn't right. Wasn't ready.
But that changed. I think in part because of the pandemic. We're walking more than ever. Seeing and noticing more than ever.
The book is a short-story memoir of walking the dog and the simple act of slowing down, of noticing what's over there, around the corner, and up the street.
A reminder that being in the moment, especially when we're outside, is the best place to be.
I'll let you know when the book is ready to launch. In the meantime, take a walk (whether you have a dog or not) ... and let me know what you notice.
Denise M Varano
12/19/2021 03:32:19 pm
On my walks I find: deep red flowers that I don't know their name and others that I photographed and shared with someone not doing so well -- it is a residential area, one part is more wealthy where I saw a big buck go across the backyard while I was talking to someone; saw two chairs with a free sign at the end of a driveway which I would've liked and the next time I went by one was taken and the other was pulled back; a yard where there were mini signs sticking up for an Alzheimer's walk; the dog that appeared 2-3 times NOT on a leash, luckily he wasn't big; the Indian family out in their yard; the two 8-ish boys making chalk drawings on the sidewalk in their driveway; the morning gentleman walker whose name was Merill---, also I walk in a cemetery: how many stones have or don't have a cross on them, the lady who died on my birthday, the last names that have letters within them that form other names, the flowers even the ones that looked too good to throw away and I was tempted to take them home, the other decor and noticing which graves seem to get some attention; the wife and husband names, and older names; the many other walkers and a few bikes, runners and a rollerblader there; the chopping down of two big trees and covering over the holes with dirt; the geese who frequent and cause such a gigantic mess, luckily they let me pass by, the dogs that are forbidden but somehow come in on occasion with their owners; the city cemetery staff who say "hi", and of course the cedar-tree lined right side of the property
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