Convinced?

The boys are off to the cabin til Monday. By the time they got out the door and I got Sarah back to the city, I was left, for the first time this summer, with time - and nothing to slot into it - ahead of me. I grabbed my notebook, laced my hiking shoes, and headed to the hills. The notes flew onto the page as soon as I was out the front gate. Yesterday I felt almost hopeless about the significance of the story I was weaving with the loose threads of my embryonic talent. Today, the threads began to plait up almost by themselves. Need more convincing evidence that character A feels powerless? By golly, she needs to wretch at the distaste of that powerlessness. Her daughters have to sock it to her with their heedless decisions, the way they talk over her opinions, accentuate her inabilities. Worse, they decide to ignore her. Okay, now we have something! Need convincing evidence that things aren't what they seem with our protagonist? Time the mysterious snow to occur just as the others discover she's been holding out on them. Shock 'em. No time to explain.