Some days are less writing-successful than others; because I began my writing day with a short piece for another venue, I found that I didn't want to sit right back down to the essay, and so I read a book about photography and remembrance instead. By the time I'd done that and had a snack, the sun was well on its way to setting, and though I thought I could stick it out indoors, only watching the edges of glory from my desk window, I was wrong.
There was no way to know in advance just how apocalyptic the clouds would look. Within five minutes of my return home, rain had started scritching the kitchen window; at first, I was sure that I had mice.
Four geese circled and circled my sunset walk. Well into the night, I could hear them calling and circling, calling and circling.
Apparently, about 1000 words is my daily limit, if I'm remaining reasonable, and so next time I have to be careful where they all go.
Today: 416 words for the essay; 550 words elsewhere.