Feeling all dusty and achy after sorting through old file cabinet drawers searching for a short story I wrote several years ago. When I stashed it away, I knew it wasn't as good as it could be and after a dream that reminded me of it, I was curious to find out if it still had any merit. I couldn't find it in the usual places, hence, the day spent going through voluminous files filled with unfinished novels and mediocre stories. I gave up writing fiction a long time ago in favor of creative non-fiction, but couldn't part with some of my "darlings" (those imperfect but well loved children of the imagination). The trash can in my workroom is overflowing this evening. And I did find the story I was looking for, haven't reviewed it yet (courage!).
More importantly today, as snow melted, I saw that the apricot blossoms DID survive the intense storm! They are beautiful, full, seemingly undamaged, and the sky is sooo blue "you could eat it with a spoon".