creator, editor, story tender
TO make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,—
One clover, and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do
If bees are few.
-Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924.
Well… I’m not on the prairie these days… but I am full of revery as I watch the seasons turn down here on the Bay.
The sunflower has grown tall and straight.
It’s over six feet tall and the day it unfurled it’s blossom, we stood and watched in wonder.
And now..the leaves are falling…
It’s only August 6th and the leaves are falling…
They say the second winter will be the hardest. Because, “Now you know what’s coming.”
I wonder.
We’ve been here for over a year. I find that amazing.
My Love and I moved here to his family “camp” in northern Ontario last June.
After ten years of spending the summers here and hopping hither and yon every fall and winter, we finally decided to just pack up all our stuff and shift it…here…to this place.
I wanted to hold still for a while.
I wanted to watch the wheel of the year go round – from this spot.
We both needed time and space to think and write, and we have found it.
Here.
I scribble away, working on a new novel. Peeling away layers of myself. Figuring out what sort of stories I REALLY want to tell.
My love continues to weave words, creating plays and sending them out into the world.
So far…
It’s been fabulous.
go easy -p
A post-dramatic approach to breast cancer
Because there's never enough time to do it right the first time but there's always enough time to do it over
Stories and photos from Scotland
Historical fiction, poetry, essays
A post-dramatic approach to breast cancer
Because there's never enough time to do it right the first time but there's always enough time to do it over
Stories and photos from Scotland
Historical fiction, poetry, essays
Why is it holding still requires letting go? Seems a bit of an oxymoron to me. To embrace the world before us, we must let go of the world surrounding us. Or not.
True…so true… in ways. I suppose, for me, I must let go of the crazy distractions, the constant chatter in my brainbox… I must drink a glass of water … slowly… and really taste it. That always brings me back to the here and now.
Especially here – where I pump the water myself.
With the old green handpump on the back step.
It rises up so cold
from THIS earth.
Come taste it.
PS – I also have wine.