Yet another day I’ve spent glued to the news on the Internet. Give me CNN, Salon, NPR, and Univision. While it’s still hard to comprehend what is happening, I am happy to report that my friend, StarGirl, and her family are well. They were lucky to escape Katrina.

Tonight I think I need to find a book that has a good story to reel me in and keep me away from the news. I may have just the ticket. I’ve got Donna Leon’s A Venetian Reckoning, fourth in the Commissario Brunetti series.

Thank you for the recommendations on books on journaling. I will be looking for those next time I’m at the bookstore – which will undoubtedly be sometime this weekend.

As I’m not filled with lots of book talk tonight, you must go check Rick Moody’s This I Believe piece on NPR. Readers Unite!

It’s been hard for me to concentrate on a book these past few days. I keep checking the news. What is happening in the wake of Katrina? Is my dear friend who lives in New Orleans okay? Are some of my blog friends who live out there okay? I send you good vibes. I’m thinking of you.

I am also finding it hard to journal. Again, lack of concentration. So tonight I went to a creative journaling meeting and I’m so glad I did. The facilitator had flash cards, tarot cards, quotes, basically, anything that could be used as a writing prompt. The exercises were timed and afterwards we could share our writing with each other.

Some writing prompts led me to writing about silly things that made me laugh, but others kind of caught me by surprise. This was definitely what I needed though because I found myself letting go and enjoying the words as they filled the blank pages. It reminded me again of how much I enjoy doing this.

Before you think I won’t mention any books in this post let me recommend some books to those of you who enjoy journaling. Living Out Loud by Keri Smith, Leaving A Trace by Alexandra Johnson, and Drawing from Life: The Journal as Art by Jennifer New.

Let me know if you have some books that you recommend. I would love to add some more to my collection.

Late August, given heavy rain and sun
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
Like thickened wine: summer’s blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger
Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots
Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.
Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills
We trekked and picked until the cans were full
Until the tinkling bottom had been covered
With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned
Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered
With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard’s.
We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.
But when the bath was filled we found a fur,
A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.
The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush
The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.
I always felt like crying. It wasn’t fair
That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot.
Each year I hoped they’d keep, knew they would not.

Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

To hear this poem visit NPR. I found it a wonderful way to mark the end of August. Anyone have any special traditions for marking the end of summer? A picnic, pool party, etc.