Transitions. This term is mainly writing-related. I remember, in the fourth grade, in Mrs. Westcott’s class being taught that paragraphs contain one idea. I remember, in the eleventh grade, in some other teacher’s class, taking an advanced writing class, and linking like-words in sequential paragraphs And I remember, in fifteenth grade, in Donald Murray’s journalism class, him reiterating what I learned in Mrs. Wescott’s class.

In all instances, I wondered about the transitional spaces between paragraphs. It seemed to me that these spaces merited more serious consideration. Poets, I realized, push the envelope transition-wise. Some make the readers work in order to make what are seemingly tangential connections.

Indeed, transitions are an integral part of all writer’s lives. Yes, I am Super Writer, able to leap from paragraph to paragraph in a single bound. Well, make it two bounds. That’s easier on the knees.

No wonder then, that I memoirist, an individual who writes at length about the various and sundry events in my life, often think about translation in relation to subject matter. For me, transitions are difficult – I suspect that non-writers feel similarly. This is why we have the wonderful world of work. This is a given – many of those who have regular 9-5 jobs don’t have as many transitions to deal with as their non-working counterparts. The extreme example are factory workers, particularly those who slap one part into another, day in and day out.

Today’s transitions are indicative of someone whose days are her own. (The price I pay for this is that I don’t earn a minimum wage. This is a mixed blessing. It’s at time a terrible inconvenience. I am free to spend my days doing as I want, but because of financial constraints, I’m not free to spend my days doing as I want.

Today’s transitions: Did morning animal chores. Transition: Jenna to groomer. Transition: Drove to Three Rivers Ranch to search for lost tack box. Transition: Assisted Pete in building cavalettis. Transition: Moved chickens from Hoop House to Upper Coop area. Transition: Ate lunch. Transition: Took horses out for a trail ride. Transition: Put horses away. Transition: Went and picked up Jenna. Transition: Went to get hay. Transition: Loaded up hay. Transition: Checked out hay guy’s cows. Transition: Unloaded hay. Transition: Did evening chores. Transition: Worked on Lessons Learned. Transition: Ate dinner. Transition: Worked on Lessons Learned. Transition: Wrote this dispatch.

This then, was my day. As I concluded each task, I paused for a moment before continuing on to the next. As I get older, these pauses seem to get longer. This very well might be nature’s way of reminding me not to give them the short shrift. This is because, indeed, transitions are very important.

Next: 282. 10/23/14: Wind