Though next week’s temperatures will return to summer, the shadows have changed, and the sun slants toward fall.
The rain is needed . . .
The Turning
Vast Sea
Nothing more rewarding
than the rumors of hope
by the wonder of a vast sea,
An escape here,
and we shall be astonished by the beauty,
In a mind where I cannot stay.
2021
An awful year is over. I’m not naive enough to think everything will be better with the start of the new year.
I am hopeful, however.
We have new leadership coming . . .
We have working vaccines for Covid-19. Yeah, Science!
I am still writing words, sentences, paragraphs, manuscripts, books . . .
Happy New Year!
Pandemic Summer
Like many people, I am scared and anxious. I turn to my work, old Cure songs, and my garden to help.
Some flowers
Some wishes:
Effective COVID 19 vaccines
An end to systematic racism
A new US President
Be Well!
Meteorological Spring
Spring in the mild maritime climate has started. In between the rainstorms, there are sun breaks and open flowers.
Looking forward to more . . .
2020
The rain falls outside on this last dim, soggy day of the year. I don’t want to make a list of the decade or anything else.
I’ll keep moving forward.
Morning on Ship Peak
The cloud cloaked mountains
wait for morning light.
A lone cow bellows,
the morning dove coos,
the breeze presses on
and the sun breaks through.
On Writing, 7 July 19
Every now and then, I reflect on why I write, what I love about writing, and what is true for me now.
Here’s what I’m thinking today . . .
I crave order, and I find order by working on a project. Sometimes writing doesn’t feel like the process has any order.
My happily ever after endings are never perfect but always satisfying.
New ideas glimmer like promises on the water’s surface, but upon closer inspection, most of them lack depth.
Depth can be created.
Layers infuse while revising. I liken this experience to a complex and beautiful garden or a really great meal. All the senses work together and the journey finds a trail and satisfying destination.
Shifting
This is the time of year I love most (even if my allergies disagree).
The birdsong and frog song, the succession of blooming plants, the longer days, and the shifts between sunshine and rain.
I’m finishing up a project that I’ll be sad to leave. I love the characters, the setting, the story. I’m sure I’ll be doing future revisions and edits, shifting and changing, but for now, I’m going to move onto the next big thing.
These moments of shifting can feel good. “Hey, I finished a book!”
Yet, I can also feel unsure.
The possibility awaits: wonderful and scary; exciting and daunting; a dash forward and a long pause. All those contrasts hit me, freeze me.
I’m back to the act of creating again. The pen to the notebook–
shifting.
Beautiful Winter
I’m not a big fan of winter. It isn’t a season where a lot of transition happens. Everything sleeps, and I am drowsy, despondent, stagnant.
This winter started out mellow. It wasn’t too cold, so I did my best to find beautiful things, especially as the year turned with a promise of early spring on the horizon.
Unfortunately, my nemesis–the winds from the Fraser Valley in Canada– hit the island in February. This cold system collided with storms. The mellow winter turned . . .
On Tuesday this week, I trudged outside. No one was out driving, so the normal quiet was even more silent.
Found the wonder of winter. The hush of snow. The transformed landscape . . .
Outside, the slow thaw drips and slushes. The forecast doesn’t exactly call for spring again, but there are signs.
I stand near the wetlands
Just behind me
A red-winged blackbird clings to some dead plant
Calling over and over and over again
Not caring anything about winter.
