Writing is an extraordinary gift. It is an essential tool when fine tuned; a skill when used creatively; an art when perfected. It can do wonders in order to convey correct and precise information, enjoyment, and wonder in exploring new ideas.     You will grow as a person daily to the extent that you write daily. Familiarize yourself with the mechanics of writing, understand the gift well; as a skill, and as an art. This will improve your communication greatly. Your whole self will become transformed by the process and this will engage every thought pattern and possible way of thinking involved while clarifying and healing your possible skewed thinking of the past. Also, your creativity will flourish in each and every area of your life as you learn to see and notice ideas as thoughts and buds.BUTTONS of THOUGHTButtons of thought, holes of passage,

     bound together by threads of Faith.GEMS FOR WRITINGStrike while the poker is hot; when you get an idea,

     write it down or jot some portion of it for remembrance's

Sake into the cavity Of the mind, where little gems sit, as they shine,

     awaiting their time to be strung together into whole bracelets or

Complete necklaces.  Remember, it's the right use of words that convey

     the communication between you and your audience making the intercourse,

     all your own.     Allowing your voice to thunder through or squeak past an old rusty hand-pump in the middle of the gravel farm yard or to sentimentally walk Through the rows of corn, beans, red beets, onions, peppers, carrots, and the like to find clods that once spit-rubbed reveal white or pink agates.     Ideas can come from anywhere: Some of my most exciting and best and wonderful memories were experienced on my Grandparent's farm out on the St. Charles Mesa in Blend, Colorado. Even the location and its word sounds, Route, Box, Highway 50 & 28th Lane are a hot-bed for new plant shoots of ideas to mature into healthy edible plants to write about; and for the children, getting into mischief in the chicken coop or the huge garage, the grain shed, or the summer kitchen where "nana" would cook her holiday feasts for the entire gang of relatives and neighbors was a great treat.     We spent a lot of time on the farm helping with the farm work and I almost feel as if we grew up there too, along with mother and her brothers and sisters. Children remember these things as if they participated in the activity every minute of the day. My dad was born in the city and his father was a grocer.     I enjoyed the quasi-farm life of farming and our camaraderie of families which is sorely lacking today in our modern cities. I had plenty of time to think and walk the plowed earth rows; hoe weeds and be with my "nano. Then head to the pump-house to get the water started for irrigation, or gather the weeds with a pitch-fork to burn; nothing smells like burning weeds brought together from the ditch. And last but not forgotten, the little gems found from dirt-clods now used as ideas for writing.