Autumn’s melancholy is often cheered by a new flowering of creative projects from writers and artists who withdraw inside and find more time for their work and for sharing it. And so this Autumn brings a burst of new voices in the blogosphere, as well as new projects from voices already known and loved.
When I started blogging back in February this year, I’d been inspired by bloggers from far and wide whose voices and pictures I’d loved and responded to and commented on. The bringing near of far-away lives was a special attraction and something I wanted to be part of. But it also meant a lot when one of the first to comment on my baby blog was Mary, who lived just a few miles from me in South London – to know that part of that community was geographically close, as well as widely scattered. So I’m bouncing with delight that she’s finally succumbed and started her own blog, A Breath of Air, which incarnates the warmth, perceptiveness and articulacy that I’ve so valued in her comments.
Sonia came here to comment more recently and always cheered me with her warmhearted enthusiasm. Now she has a blog, Leaves of Grass, with breathtaking photos of her Brazilian home.
I met Moose over in Dale’s comments, and she (well, she feels like she to me – I don’t know) has just started blogging too, at Find Me A Bluebird. She’s a poet, a wonderful poet – how does she do it every day?
Meanwhile, some of the bloggers I most admire, Beth of Cassandra Pages, Dave of Via Negativa, K of Lucid Moments, and Whiskey River, recently got together to launch a group blog, a new forum for literary and artistic collaboration: QARRTSILUNI. The title is an Alaskan Inuit word meaning sitting together in the darkness, waiting for something to burst. If you haven’t, go and read it now! Contributions are sought for this month’s topic: Change and Continuity.
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blogfruit - n. 1. A perennial species, native to the internet and wildly cultivated for its nourishing fruit. 2. The quotidian harvest of this species, having variously hued skins, and containing many seeds for thought, each enclosed in juicy, sometimes mildly acidic, words.
Jean, thank you for this generous harvest (new juices to slake a thirst for good writing!) and for including mine among your kind words. You've introduced me to a couple new ones and I'm grateful.