Early mornings this year in the North Country have brought frost warnings and cool temperatures. But the trees are still budding out and by the afternoon most days it feels like spring.

A long weekend in Wisconsin with Sue has re-energized me a bit. Spending four days along the Mississippi River was apparently just what the doctor ordered.

But having said that, I have to admit that words still feel far away.

I grew up with men who spoke very little (my father and my various uncles). I fear sometimes that as I am growing older that I am becoming too much that way myself.

Usually on paper and on blogs, I have at least been able to find something to say. But these days I am finding that even there, my mind is largely wordless.

I did not say silent. For my mind is anything but that. It is busy with images and impressions, memories and emotions. But not with words.

I keep telling myself that it is a phase. That this too shall pass. At least I hope so. For what is a writer without words?