Gazing out over the backyard on a bright spring morning, small glinting shards in the earth catch my eye. “Time for a trash break,” I tell Andrew, somewhat relieved not to have to solve the puzzle of where to next move our tarps in the never-ending chase of weeds. I grab the bucket I keep…
Life has a way of rooting you in. Even the most adventure-oriented soul sometimes gets a taste of sweet domesticity and, aided by the annual getting-older process, the feel of wind against your cheeks gives way to the feel of a freshly laundered pillow case at 9 AM on a Saturday. The travelers: Me, 38,…
I am a bored twenty-something fantasizing about the apocalypse and paddling along the lake’s edge on a visit to my dad’s house on the Oregon coast. There’s that birdsong again, the one I always hear from my bedroom window when I’m trying to sleep in. A low note, a higher one, and then a long,…
An acquaintance’s email account got hacked. I wrote a poem. ** Stan <emailomitted@hacked.net>: Oct 21 02:58PMSubject: Please Reply Now Hello, Are you busy or less-busy right now ? Let me know please.Regards,Stan Hi Stan,Thank you for your inquiry. I’m more busy than I used to be but less busy than I was a…
This April, I had the privilege of participating in a local National Poetry Writing Month group. Every day of the month, we posted a new poem to the Facebook group. Okay, I only managed about 17 poems, but it was still a good exercise. This is the second one that came out. For me, it…
The neighbor girl, poking her face between a gap in the fence boards asks my name. I tell her, and she says, “That’s weird.” So many things in life you will find weird, I want to reply. Getting dumped without actually being told you’ve been dumped. Desire, so fierce it can pull you out of…
Last spring I taught a writing workshop, “On Restoration” at Vesper Meadow. I really liked the format of walking and writing – in fact, my entire writing life has been informed by both moving and engaging with nature. So this year I’m holding another “Walk & Write”! (And draw, because I’ve really been enjoying sketch-journaling…
I march across the meadow and step onto a sun-bleached, half-burned log of what must have been a 200-year oak. Something drew me here, away from camp in the middle of dinner. It could have been the light changing on the sea of grass, the play of the ground squirrels over the log and back…
Deer in the Mirror Golden-headed, hide-tough, hoof-cautious. A listener, but never too shy to browse — books, sweet peas in the garden, webs, artifacts, stones by the river, the phases of the moon. Deer-me, I tend toward disruption: Nibbling bark, stopping traffic, charging my enemies — real or misremembered — then happily hoofing it over…
Hello there! The past several months, writing-wise, have been devoted to training my poetic voice. Read-alouds, critique groups, and many hours spent just staring at the notebook/screen, writing, crossing out, underlining and rewriting.
The unfortunate thing about the publishing industry is that often times, posting it on a personal blog makes it ineligible for republishing elsewhere. To that, I now say: Pish-posh!
I love new projects. An idea can fire me up so well I have a hard time sleeping. It’s like a new lover I just want to visit again and again, gazing deeply into its eyes to let it reveal to me all the promises of my own potential. I see the idea unfolding into all the things I’ve ever wanted to achieve, making me into the person I always knew I would become. Seductive, seemingly perfect, the idea — whether for a book, a business, a project or adventure — will seduce me with its promises of wealth, power and/or fame even while I see its flaws as perfectly as one can see cellulite and fatally bad breath.
(R) She sees it for the first time arching across the canyon before a grand departure. Viewed through a misted car window, it radiates goodwill.
(O) The rainbow follows the hiker down the canyon, bouncing off the walls, descending over breakfast. It threatens to turn the oatmeal into a pot of gold. She is glad when it doesn’t.
I don’t have a whole story about all this, not yet. Sure, I could make some gummy conclusion about how when we heal the land, we heal ourselves. I could encourage you to go plant a tree, pull an invasive weed, or somehow rearrange the mud somewhere in a way that allows life to flourish. But I think what I needed to do most today was to see a thread through the various work parties and events I’ve shown up to over the past year. Being a writer, I’ve taken some notes, and I’m sharing a version of them here.
Fresh fiction! Cut-out of a short story I recently dusted off for possible submission to a “Bikesexuality” collection from Elly Blue’s Taking the Lane. Then I realized that this is a non-fiction venue. Blurg! Well, it was fun to work in fiction-land for an afternoon anyway. Enjoy! *** Jamal throws his bookbag into the…
Nice of you to drop in. Oh, not a casual visit? You were checking up on me. What’s happening, you want to know? Where’s the writing? Girl (or boy), don’t get me started. I’ve been creating enough to make your head spin. The winter has been rich in collaborations, experimentations, and inspired but un-bloggable labors…
Tuula11 