Why I Write

That's my grandpa on the right - quite a story with this photo

I have always had a love for stories.  I remember as a child sitting in my grandparents's living room listening to the adults tell the stories of their childhood adventures.  I honestly can't decided if my family was blessed with amazing lives or simply the gift to tell a good story, but I could  have spent a lifetime listening to their humor and knowledge.  As I work on my skills as a writer, the spirit of those stories are always present with me.  Telling a story is family time - a way in which my history has been passed to me.

Mother Nature

Another great gift my parents gave me was my love and understanding of nature.  Nature is the ultimate teacher. Her grace is great and knowledge is vast.  She has shared her lessons through her laughing trees and her whispering grass, animals of fur and feathers and all the amazing insects.  Some of her lessons she has shared openly while others I have earned with my life.

I write because I love telling a good story.  I write to pass on the prose I have learned and discovered.  I write because it is a piece of me and a way to connect with my past, my future, and all that is present about my being.  I am a writer.

Nature's gifts from my Garden of Knowlege

Welcome Gus

Gus

Spring is a time for new birth and so it is with joy that I announce the newest member of our family: Gus, the very handsome four year old German Shepard we rescued with the help of the awesome people at MOGS (Missouri German Shepard Rescue).  But it is Gus, who has rescued our hearts.

Two years ago we mourned the passing of our two beloved friends.  Loki was our faithful German Shepard and Isis was our sweet Rhodesian Ridgeback.  Our four-legged family members were a constant pillar in my turbulent life, helping me through life’s twists.  Loki was massive, strong and brave, always providing a comforting place for me to cry allowing my fists to grip his thick fur and bury my sorrows against his stoic neck; and Isis, with her gentle reassuring presence knew how to comfort using only the kindness that radiated from her eyes.  She'd rest lightly next to me, a faithful spirit.  They were true friends and completely tuned to my emotions.  Life is fluid and there were many good times too, celebrated with kisses and wagging tails, and victories were reveled with happy dances and lots of wiggles.

Loki and Isis

I raised them both of them from pups.  They were only three months apart in age and bonded so closely that I knew when we lost Loki at the age of eight to cancer – Isis stopped living.  We even tried to help Isis by adding Jaxson to our family but even the overly energetic Ridgback pup couldn’t fill the void Loki had left in her life.  She stopped eating and joined her Loki eight months later.

My world was in transition, mourning the passing of my friends, life continued about me.  Jaxson, the-ever-naughty, Ridgeback pup would let me stay too gloomy and soon I realized that he needed a friend but it had to be just the right friend.  I'd used all my energy raising Jaxson and now at two years old, I didn't want to do the puppy thing again.  I contacted several adoption groups but most were too busy to respond to my application.  At first, I was discouraged but then I found the people at MOGS.  From the start, they were helpful and organized and above all, they understood I had some specific requirements which not only did they understand but were able to match us to the perfect dog.

I still mourn Loki and Isis but my heart is full again thanks to Gus.  He and Jaxson have filled our home with the happy sounds of toenail clicks upon the hardwood floors and our backyard with play and happiness.

Now with everything in balance again, I feel renewed and have begun working on a new book – a story from my childhood.  Spring is hope and I hope to carry the memory of those who've gone before me with the beauty of my words.

Gus and Jaxson

Giving Thanks

I should be writing; I should be writing a novel.  At least that is what I'd planned on doing when I signed up for this year's NaNoWriMo but with only today and tomorrow left to finish my novel, my plans are quickly evaporating.

Once again my busy life has squashed my plans for writing but I am thankful.  "Life is long" is the advice I'd overheard a parent telling his adolescent daughter.  And he is right.  This moment will fade into the next leaving only shadows of memories. 

This month may not have been spent completing my sequel but it was not wasted.  Time spent with family and friends is an invaluable gift and after spending an evening with my 91 year old grandmother, I was reminded how long life is.  This busy phase will pass.  Children grow up.  Time returns to us in the end.

Spooooky

Washington Irving's classic, "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" has always been one of my favorites.  As I travel a hiking trail near my home, I became vividly aware of the tale's haunting depictions.  Armed with only my camera I attempted to capture images worthy of Irving's verbal setting.  Before me loomed the iconic bridge described in his words:

...This road leads through a sandy hollow shaded by trees for about a quarter of a mile, where it crosses the bridge famous in goblin story; and just beyond swells the green knoll...

Over a deep black part of the stream, not far from the church, was formerly thrown a wooden bridge; the road that led to it, and the bridge itself, were thickly shaded by overhanging trees, which cast a gloom about it, even in the daytime; but occasioned a fearful darkness at night. Such was one of the favorite haunts of the Headless Horseman, and the place where he was most frequently encountered... 

...In the center of the road stood an enormous tulip-tree, which towered like a giant above all the other trees of the neighborhood, and formed a kind of landmark. Its limbs were gnarled and fantastic, large enough to form trunks for ordinary trees, twisting down almost to the earth, and rising again into the air....

...About two hundred yards from the tree, a small brook crossed the road...

 

...He saw the walls of the church dimly glaring under the trees beyond...

An opening, in the trees now cheered him with the hopes that the church bridge was at hand… "If I can but reach that bridge," thought Ichabod, " I am safe." 

Maybe my imagination had gotten the better of me but as I hiked that trail, I could almost hear the horse's hoof-beats or maybe it was just the fact that the trail allows equines.  Either way it made for a fun and exciting afternoon.  Once safely across the bridge and back at my computer, I noticed in one of the photo's I'd snapped, an actual cemetery rested against the peaceful hillside.

The Sweet Time

I'm halfway through the editing process of my second novel but the outdoors keeps calling to me.  It's the sweet time - that time of year where bounty is in abundance and ready to be harvested.  Earlier this year, I asked a friend if she'd like to keep a couple of bee hives on my property, hoping that the little insects could boost the pollination of my fruit trees.  She agreed and the project paid off for both of us.  She is swimming in honey and I yielded so many nectarines that two branches broke on one of my trees - not to mention the peaches - oh the delicious peaches.

My tomatoes are in full production and are loaded with perfect ripened fruit from which I've been busily making tomato soup and soon hope to can salsa and spaghetti sauce.  I am so busy but it is a labor of love.  Soon winter will be upon us but my pantry will be loaded with jars of tasty sunshine.

It's not been all work.  My family enjoyed playing in the local apple orchard down the road from our house.  There is something about the morning air this time of year - dewy and energized with life.  I tried to capture the experience with my camera as we picked raspberries in the field in front of the orchard.  I love how the hills in the background are flooded with the morning light and the textures created by the raspberry bushes.

I can't wait until we visit the orchard again.  My favorite apples are just coming into season and though they weren't quite ripened to perfection, I still had to pick the grapefruit-sized Honey Crips apples.  Yes, I love this time of year and I have given myself permission to push my editing aside so that I might live in the moment and experience all the wonders which create the sweet time. 

Feels Like Fall

The weather was cooler today reminding me of fall.  Whenever the seasons change, I feel like I need to change - to migrate or something.  And lately I've been pondering my place in life.  My whole life I've been working towards goals - complete elementary school - graduate high school - earn a bachelors degree - find a good job - start a family.  What's left?  Retirement?  I have too much life to live before I start planning that journey.  I guess that leaves me with my dreams of writing - I need to become more serious and create time for myself.  I know it sounds cliche but life is flying past and I feel like I'm a passenger peering out a bus window.  I'm only receiving glimpses of the world instead of being able to interact - take charge - play a role. My husband thinks that finding a different job would help - possibly free up time and allow me more life with my love ones but I've already cut my hours at my current job and though that has helped my sanity - I still am not able to achieve much beyond the day-to-day routine.

At least the changing season has sparked me past my creative slump and hopefully that is all I will need to get motivated again.

Listening to the Rhythms of my World

Lately, I’ve been attempting to live by a new concept – at least new to me.  Instead of my usual fight to bend the world to my will, I’ve taken a step back and am embracing the universe and all its rhythms.  I am trying to work with the uncontrollable forces of my life instead of in spite of them.

For example, this spring as I worked in my garden, I focused on what was easiest to do each day.  If it were rainy or wet – I pulled weeds because they removed with ease in the wet soil even though my head told me I needed to be planting because it was getting late in the year.  But last year I learned that planting in the rain could wash away the seeds and walking through the mud in my vegetable garden destroys the composition of the dirt – so I listened to the world around me and only planted after the soil had dried enough that it was no longer easy to pull weeds.  Then on the really dry days when even planting was difficult – I pruned the overgrowth. 

My logical side was appalled by my new concept.  Everything has an order.  Finish one project before starting another - planting before weeding.  But this year I didn’t listen to my logic and somehow my garden grows.  The vegetable crop is maturing admittedly later than usual but the work was much more enjoyable.

So looking at my work as a writer, I’ve begun to wonder if the same concept applies:  listen to the universe and my writing will come easier and better than trying to fit it into an agenda.  I’m not sure.  We’ve all had those days when ideas flow from our minds with elegance - or had days when editing comes easy by using a critical mindset and seeing what works and what doesn’t.  But I fear that if I don’t stick to an agenda, I will avoid and neglect specific activities indefinitely and never finish anything.

In either case, I’ve had a bad case of ‘I don’t want to work with anything dealing with writing’ and I need to find a way to break out of this slump.