Early morning. The sky has begun to lighten, but night birds have not yet finished their song. I slip out of bed and pad cat-like down the hall to my study. It has two windows that open onto the clearing out front. The full moon turned a running deer into a silvery unicorn.

I have been awake for hours, listening to the reassuring evenness of Buck's deep breathing, excited about an image that came to me just as I was falling asleep last night. It is a threshold. 


/threshold, threshhold/

  • noun 1 a strip of wood or stone forming the bottom of a doorway and crossed on entering a house or room. 2 a level or point at which something would start or cease to happen or come into effect.*

*from The Compact Oxford English dictionary

I can't say more at the moment — only that this image pertains to writing. It makes me laugh this morning, and think, "What more do I need, an engraved invitation?"



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