To write, oh to write, it is like all life has returned, like the -30 is only waiting for this sun that will melt it’s petrified heart. Sometimes I just want words – I panic if the paper is not there, if the pen should run dry, if the words should stop, the letters falling to the floor in a series of broken clichés about snow-capped mountains and flowing streams. To KNOW, to better KNOW, these words of mine – that come from this soul of mine is the joy I have long been looking for. To KNOW, to feel the ruby slippers on my feet. To know the words are waiting …JOY! You’ve always had the power my dear – you’ve always had it!