Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Golden currants cascade in clusters...


Golden currants cascade in clusters from twig and branch. All things proceed rapidly towards quick conclusion. The snows melt quickly. The rivers rise, rush and rage. Then subside to a proceed at a dignified pace. Fur-lined nests are empty within mere days after baby rabbits have been born. The occupants, now half-grown, are out on their own.

Currant bushes, covered with delicate yellow flowers but a few weeks ago, are now gloriously bejeweled with golden fruit. Everything is in a hurry to burst forth, grow and mature before our brief summer ends.

Rythmns are different here. The long slow winter, slipping and sliding into May, jumps into summer by the second week of June, then jumps out again by August's end as if the water is already much too cold.

I am watching the golden clusters carefully. If I want my jar of jam, I must be quick. Cedar waxwings know precisely the hour when the berries are truly best. I have found it almost impossible to teach wild birds how to share.

Photo credit: Natalie Neal Whitefield

Oh, to be a fly on the wall...

Well, you probably wouldn't want to be a fly at my house!

You wouldn't get much of a chance to listen in or to observe what was going on. You see, we live in the country. And like most homes out here, our buildings are older, built solidly but beset with crooks, cracks and crannies into which and from which winged things come. And now it's summertime. The time for all buzzing creatures to hatch, reproduce and complete their life cycle.

To live and quickly die!

My guests and I am are here to help with the "dying" part. We are part of the endless systematic workings of nature. Our job is to cut short the life cycle of the fly.

Here are your freshly-laundered sheets. Your towels. And here is your weapon. A super-sized fly-swatter.

Have at it
!

I have a rock...

Yes, I have a rock. And my own mountain. And a wild river, too. Clean air. Clean water. A snug place to sleep at night. A bowl of soup and a piece of toast. Shade trees in summer. With such blessings how could one not be happy?

I am troubled that so many in this world are denied such blessings.

Have I done something special to deserve this grace? Or is my good fortune the random disbursement of bounties being cast in all directions by the hands of fate?

My gratitude is unbounded, but my task perhaps is to enjoy these blessings without a heavy heart...

Do you ever feel guilty for your blessings instead of counting them?

Photo credit: Natalie Neal Whitefield

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Life is different for me now


It used to be all about me, me, me. And that's Ok because I didn't have any one else in my life at the time. I was all there was! Once children came, my sense of self expanded and family trumped all. I found I liked being a team player. It was much more fun than going it alone. And when Stephen came into our lives, we became the home team. With children of their own now, the other members of that team come back to play whenever they can. We've never lost that spirit. We still root for one another, and jump and shout when one of us hits a home run. There is no such thing as win or lose. For us it's always been about how to play the game.

Monday, June 25, 2007

The past is always perfect...


I've been working steadily these past few days scanning yellowed clippings which have been lying dormant in the scrapbooks of a former life. I thought the experience might be a bit depressing, but no. It's been rather refreshing to become re-acquainted with the person I once was. She reminds me of someone I may still want to be. We had good times, she and I. And the clear conviction behind her eyes tells me there are good times that remain. Places to explore. Ideas that require her attention and mine. We're still pals. That girl I used to be...and me.






Photo: From the personal archives of the author 

Saturday, June 23, 2007

I am told I must blog...

I love to write but this is ridiculous. I have been given a kind of ultimatum of sorts by other writers who maintain that one must blog, the modern-day equivalent of the evolutionary theory, adapt or die! Time has no meaning to the techno novelist of today. It's a 24/7 world now and if I can't handle it, I should prepare for oblivion.

Well, I don't think I'm cut out for the write now, write all the time world. I spend four to six hours a day as it is, fighting with my characters over the various, twisting, turning events which seem to have taken over my third book. Let me revise that statement slightly, which have taken over their book. I forgot. I exist merely to serve.

And I am told I must promote. Constantly. Name recognition is paramount. Even before I have a name, I must be working on creating an identifiable entity on line. Always on the alert for every conceivable opportunity to root to toot toot my proverbial horn...

Ok. How else for an unknown to become a household name? But do I really want to become a household name? I've done that a couple of times in the past and I can't say it was all that much fun! Perhaps I should try writing for the fun of it, if there is such a thing. I don't know. I haven't decided yet. I've got these people standing over my shoulder telling me to get back to work. After all, their story is more important than my musings and they don't like to be kept waiting...