Quartet Christmas

Pepper, the sewing cat, helping me with my projects

We met at Sue's house for Quartet last week. We had dinner (salad and lasagne) and then sat around the fire in her stove fireplace and had cheesecake left over from an earlier event at the Box Factory.

In December we exchange simple gifts with each other and I decided to make decorative pillows with a photo image of the sign on the side of the Box Factory, which my husband, Tom, took several years ago for a poster. I made a pillow for myself too, and it's on my sofa in my writing studio.

I thought it was an especially fitting image, because we all met through our connections to the Box Factory and it means a lot to each of us, especially Ali since she's the executive director here now and logs a lot of hours in the joint.

It's a fun place to hang out, surrounded by other artists of all kinds, who are there to talk if you want, but will leave you alone if you need to concentrate. It's a place for creativity and expanding visions. And it's a pretty cool building too - 103 years and counting!

It's good to get out of the house to work and clear the cobwebs out of my brain - after all I can't stay at home sewing with kittys every day!

New Goals

Every year I set new goals. I don't like to call them resolutions - that word just doesn't seem to have enough oomph to it. Now, "goals" that's some serious stuff!

Usually I have way more plans than I have time or energy to accomplish, but I figure if I can do even a portion of them, I'm in good shape.

For next year my goals are simple to state, but hard to do. I'm going to concentrate on getting my heath back. I'm going to get my knees fixed, my weight down, my strength and stamina back.

To do this I am cutting activities and commitments left and right. That's not so easy to do, I'm the original "I'll do it" girl. But I know in order to accomplish what I need to do, I have to have time and peace.

That's the gift I want in 2012. And I know I'm the only one who can give it to me.

Nolan Swims

Grandson Nolan and Daughter-in-law Sarah

Last night Tom and I went to a pool at a nearby high school and watching our grandson, Nolan, take a swim lesson. He's not quite 2-years-old and on the way home Tom mentioned that it was our first time sitting in the bleachers watching him do an athletic activity.

It's a territory we know well.

All three of our children played multiple sports and all of them started fairly early - at 4 or 5-years old. From preschool all the way up through high school we hauled kids to sports activities and tried to never miss a game or match if we could help it. I liked it because it gave me a chance to stare at my kids, without seeming to be obsessed.

When our daughter finally graduated from high school a few years ago, we thought we were ready for a break, and it didn't take long before I started wondering how I ever found time for all that bleacher sitting.

But it also didn't take long before we were missing it too. What's a summer without a baseball game, what's a fall without football and soccer, what's a spring without tennis, a winter without basketball? We've had four years now to find out and sometimes it has been a little boring.

So, we are looking forward to Nolan participating in some form of sports - I think he's pretty destined to do something because of his excessive love of balls of all kinds! And his unusual skill (I think) in accurate throwing.

We'll be bleacher bums again before we know it. I can hardly wait!

Weekend with the "Irish"

This past weekend Tom and I went to South Bend, Indiana (only about 45 minutes from where we live) and treated ourselves for Christmas. We had lunch, went shopping, and then checked into the Morris Inn on the University of Notre Dame campus. I've included a photo of their lobby.

That evening we went to the restaurant at the Inn, Sorrins, and had a delicious dinner in a beautiful setting, then to the performing arts center to see the choir sing the "Messiah." After the performance, when we were tired after such a long day, it was nice to drive only a few blocks to our cozy room at the Inn and snuggle down for a long almost-winter's nap.

The next morning we had a leisurely breakfast at the Inn, then went to Michigan City to finish our shopping.

It was a simple outing, but one we would not/could not do when we had children at home. I guess there is some advantage to being an empty-nester. At any rate, it went a long way towards renewing my Christmas spirit, which has taken a hit ever since I became a grown-up and responsible for so many things at Christmas.

Now, I feel I can sit back a little and let other people run themselves ragged!

Thanksgiving at Home

Our grandson, Nolan with a BIG bird!

One of the best things about Thanksgiving at this stage of my life is - I can stay home. I don't have to cook like crazy, I don't have to host a bunch of people. We just have our little family - three grown kids, two daughters-in-law and one toddler grandson. I have enough chairs and dishes for everybody.

There are no judgements, no timetable, and no expectations. This year we continued something we did last year - Thanksgiving brunch. We ate about 10 o'clock and by noon all was cleaned up, the dishwasher was humming away and our two sons and their families were off to their in-laws, to eat a traditional turkey dinner cooked by mothers who like to do that kind of thing.

Tom and I and our daughter, Sloan, settled down to relax and nibble on left-overs the rest of the day. We had three kinds of pie - pumpkin, pecan and red raspberry.

I just love it when my little family gets together. I know they love me without dragging a bunch of baggage along - and I feel the same about them. That's what I was thankful for this year. May this last for many years to come.

Plein Aire Sketch Writing

On our trip to Zion National Park I got the chance to practice my "plein aire sketch writing", which is basically - plant yourself somewhere outside and try to describe what's going on all around you.

One day while Tom was wandering along the length of the Virgin River, I sat on this large tree, worn smooth by weather and water, and tried to do just that. Those notes will be part of an essay I'm planning on the rivers we've run upon during our travels.

On the last couple of days at Zion they were holding a plein aire painting event called "In the Footsteps of Thomas Moran". Painters would paint the scenes from the same place that the famous landscape painter from 100 years ago worked. We saw these artists scattered all around the park, but we didn't go up to any of them.

Mostly because, I don't know how artists feel, but when I'm out in the wild and trying to take notes, it really works best when I can get into a zone, and I wouldn't like it if someone came up to me and asked me what I was doing.

It's only fitting I extend the same courtesy to the fine artist.

Hiking in Zion

Now, almost a month after we've returned, I'm starting to think about our trip to Zion and Bryce National Parks and this weekend, in between cooking and eating for the holiday, I think I may get a chance to pull out those notes and begin making sense of them.

As I've said before, my knees keep me from doing too much walking, but here's a picture of me on a short walk, which was a bit uphill, but not too steep.



Tom does much better on these trips. He took a long hike to Angel's Landing and also hauls this tripod and camera nearly everywhere he goes. Here's a picture of him on that same hike:



I have lots of notes from our trips this fall, and to The Tetons and Yellowstone this past May and even from our trip to Santa Fe the summer of 2010. I'm getting a bit backed up with the things I want to write. But, winter is coming.

One of my favorite writers, Terry Tempest Williams, says she hibernates in the winter and that's when she writes - hopefully that will be the case for me this coming season too.

Pie & Pets at Quartet

This looks just like my cat, Pepper

We met at Ali's house for quartet this month. She made vegetable pot pie for dinner and pumpkin pie for dessert. It's always a good day when a person can have double pie!

We went upstairs to her cozy, wood-lined den under the rafters and shared our writing, then watched a film by a local film maker. Through it all we were joined by Ali's two cats, Keillor and Sweetie Pie, and her golden retriever, Wyeth Blue.

It got me thinking about pets and the way they fold themselves into our lives. Ali is the only one of us in the quartet who has a dog, but all of us have at least one cat, and Ali and I have two each. I don't think my cats inspire my writing so much, but they certainly like to keep me company in whatever room I happen to be in the house.
And Gracie likes to come up onto the desk whenever I'm working and wind her way through the obstacles. The problem with that is, with this new touch-screen computer we have, she can wave her bushy tail across the screen and make funny things happen!

Writing is, by necessity a solitary occupation, and it feels good to have a warm body around that doesn't talk, but definitely shows support and understanding, and is non judgemental - even when the writing isn't going all that well.

Turkey Haiku

Next week at the Box Factory for the Arts we are hanging a new exhibit called "Turkey Trot" which will consist of artwork of turkeys and autumn and harvest images.

We also invited our writers to submit turkey-themed haiku, which we will print out and hang on the gallery walls too.

Here's a 3-part haiku I wrote:

Turkey Pond
Around the small pond,
wild turkeys come socialize
in poultry clumps.

In this quiet space,
staccato gobbling
ripples morning air.

The thick brown bodies
flock close in harmony and
solidarity.

Halloween in Utah

I'm borrowing this image from Tom to show you how we spent Halloween - the morning in Zion National Park and the afternoon in Bryce Canyon National Park - and on the road between we found this old pick-up with pumpkins piled on.

It is perhaps the most Halloween thing we saw on this trip. When we got to Bryce lodge there were a few carved pumpkins sitting around - but they looked like they had seen better days for sure - curling up on themselves - so it was hard to see what was originally carved into them.

In this area Halloween seems to mark the end of a very busy season of tourism. Everyone seems more relieved and ready to batten down for winter, than to overly celebrate Halloween.

It has been a good trip with sunny and warm weather - although rumor has it that we may see a little snow today, our last full day in the canyons.

Reading, Donuts & Cider

Twice a year (usually in April and October) we invite the writers at the Box Factory for the Arts to submit writing for a chapbook, which is then published by the Writers' Studio. The writers may submit poetry, fiction or non-fiction, but each chapbook has a theme and the writing must be done to that theme.

The latest chapbook, published just last week, is entitled "Write a Letter" and we invited our writers to do just that. This time it was even a contest with 1st, 2nd and 3rd place money prizes. I show the cover of the book here, it was done by Ali Hansen who is in my writing quartet, but is also a wonderful artist in her own right.
She happened to take first prize in the contest, which was judged by our local librarian and the president of the library board.

Last Friday night, I invited all the writers and their families to come to an open reading at the Box Factory. We supplied the stage, mic, donut holes and cider - they got up and read their pieces. All but three people were able to make it.

As I told them that night, it's not easy to stand on a stage with the bright lights in your eyes and read your writing aloud to an audience of people, many of whom you do not know. I applaud them for being that brave.

This is the ninth chapbook we have published over the last five years, but the first time we've had an open reading. It went so well, I think we will do it again with the spring version.

It was simply a beautiful autumn night where people of like mind met and celebrated their work.

Haunted Quartet

The writing quartet met at my house last week and this was the sign on my front door that greeted them.

I love Halloween and the fall season, but this year I have barely any decorations up - we haven't even bought a pumpkin! I have a growing collection of Halloween village buildings, but I have set that up in the library at the Box Factory for the Arts, directly across from my studio - it's too tempting to my cats to put the village at home.

During quartet we ate outside on the deck for the last time for the season, then retired to the living room to share our writing and have some hot tea and pumpkin mousse desserts from the bakery down the road.

We sometimes talk about haunted things this time of year, but this time we didn't. Maybe because the weather was so beautiful that it was hard to think of dismal things. This week is perfect for that - it's gloomy, extremely windy and rainy - just the kind of weather to blow in a ghoul or two to cause trouble.

Nolan in the Fall

Is there anything cuter than little kids and pumpkins?

I think we took pictures of our young ones every year when we visted the local pumpkin patches. Here's one of Nolan, the grandson, painting his - a budding artist perhaps?

I have a notebook specifically set aside to record Halloween writing and I haul it out this time of year and try to capture the memories of our kids being small and enjoying the Halloween season. It's a time of year I have always loved, and one I feel particularly creative in.

I have to work quickly, when November comes, the memories pack themselves away for another year whether they were committed to the page or not.

Back from Quilt Camp

For the last four years I've been heading to the upper part of lower Michigan for a quilt workshop with Gwen Marston. I just returned the other day. This is a picture of Gwen standing in front of her samples of our project for this year - what she called "small studies."

I ended up making four of these small quilts myself over the period of four days of sewing and enjoyed them very much.

Nowadays I don't get too much time to sew - so it's always a treat when I'm reminded how much I enjoy it.

The workshop is held at an old-fashioned resort on a small lake. Here's a photo looking out at the lake from where I stayed.


The weather was almost supernaturally wonderful - sunny and in the 70 degree range all week. One day I even waded in the lake. And on the last beautiful Saturday afternoon of sewing, many of us took our chairs out onto the lawn and watched sailboats on the lake while we did our hand-sewing.

October in Michigan!

Pine Cone Attacks

Our house is surrounded by pine trees and some years - and this is one of them - the pine cones are so dense it's freaky! When they fall they land on the roof and it sounds like someone is throwing rocks at the house. The odd thing is that they often fall in groups, one after another, like birds taking flight. One decides to go, and the others follow.

When that happens it sounds really strange inside the house and I hesitate to go out the front door for fear I'll be hit on the head by one of these hand grenades!

This week it is supposed to be a lovely autumn week with weather in the 70's and the trees turning their colors.

I leave on Tuesday for my annual quilt retreat further up north in Michigan and I imagine the trees will be even further along in their color change. I'm looking forward to the drive, to the colors, and getting away from the last of the "dive bombers!"

Bonnie Jo and the River

Last night I went to our local bookstore for their autumn book symposium. At these events the staff quickly reviews about 50 books that are coming out and then usually has a speaker.

Last night's speaker was Bonnie Jo Campbell show here. She read from her latest book "Once Upon a River." I've met Bonnie Jo a few times before and always admire her writing. She lives about an hour away in Kalamazoo, but she and I have another connection too.


The river she is writing about in her book is the St. Joseph River, and the reason she knows about it so well is that she spent her summers at her Grandparents' cottage that was located on a small island in the river. That cottage was only about 1/2 mile away from my Grandparents' farm - which is where I spent most of my time in the summer while I was growing up.

I'm about nine years older than Bonnie Jo, so she wasn't someone I played with during that time period, but it's a small town neighborhood. We would know a lot of the same people.

Bonnie Joe teaches at the low-residency MFA program I'm applying to. If I get accepted and if I get the chance, I'll tell her about it.

Disappointment from the Local Rag

Well, after working intensely for countless hours on my Ring Lardner programs and exhibit for the Box Factory for the Arts, our local newspaper - The Herald-Palladium - has decided in their infinite wisdom not to give it one word of coverage - other than a listing in their calendar.

To say I'm disappointed is an understatement. We depend on this little hometown newspaper, as sad as it often is, to get the word out to people and for them to ignore this major gallery effort is not only disappointing it's neglectful on their part.

I've gone back and forth with their entertainment department and they continue to refuse to cover it and can not be persuaded differently. There is, after all, just sooooo much to cover and they've given the Box Factory enough publicity.

It's this kind of thing that just makes me heartsick. It's difficult to work so hard on a project, then have someone tell you that it's not worth even the smallest of articles. It's not worth even acknowledging that it exists.

I know it's the writer's curse to be rejected over and over again - but this one hurts. My husband says I should e-mail them back and say "bite me!"

I'm tempted!

A Delayed Quartet

Last night our writing quartet met at a local coffee shop for dinner and to talk. It was a meeting delayed from last week when two of us were busy hanging the Ring Lardner gallery show on the night we were supposed to meet.

This coffee shop is where we first began getting together a few years ago, and last night's meeting reminded me why we stopped going there. We bought sandwiches that, at least for me, were too expensive and not that good and we sat on chairs that are squeezed in tight with the other tables and aren't at all comfortable to sit on.

And I don't think the quartet itself was feeling too great. I have a head cold from hell that just won't go away, another of us is having problems at work, another is juggling a complicated job and another is balancing her writing with volunteer work.

And on top of all that, we had to wrap it up quickly to go to the night writing group we all belong to.

We'll be together again on Monday to attend a Readers' Symposium at a local book shop and before hand we'll meet for dinner and hopefully have a more relaxing time.

And then, next month, we'll meet at my house for a leisurely dinner (and dessert!) and a settling in among the stuffed chairs and sofas and pillows to talk and read aloud and connect with each other once again while the pumpkins glow on the mantle.

Another Crack at It

After giving it several months thought, I think I may take another crack at graduate school, this time going to a low-residence program for a creative writing degree.

I'm still researching this, and I still have to apply and get accepted, of course, but I think it would be a good fit for me. I wouldn't have to move away from my life to do it, but it would give my writing structure and, even more important, deadlines!

I'll be working on submission materials for the next several months and, if all goes well, be able to start next June. Here's hoping once again!

Water, Water, Water

Here's a photo taken by my husband, Tom, at Glacier National Park in Montana.

I'm a five generation Michigander. My family has spent more than 150 years living next to Lake Michigan and I don't think I could ever move away from the lake. I love water and often the traveling we do takes us to lakes or rivers.

I also have a healthy respect for water. Each year dozens of people drown in the Great Lakes, many of them right here in Lake Michigan. Earlier in the summer several people died in a river at Yosemite.

I love water, I'm drawn to water - but caution is best. We're only human and humans do best when they don't push their luck too much with this particular natural element.

Honoring Ring

At the Box Factory for the Arts, where I have a writing studio and am the director of the writing programs for the artist guild, we are launching a gallery show and programming to honor Ring Lardner.

He was born in a city near here and, even though he was working nearly 100 years ago, he's still probably the most famous writer from our area.

The most famous writer hardly anyone really knows. Including me!

I first ran into his name when I was reading about Hemingway and Fitzgerald, of whom he was a contemporary. Lardner was a sports reporter (he covered the Chicago White Sox during their shameful 1919 throwing of the World Series) but he was also the most widely read humorist of his time.

We will honor him with an exhibit, a writing workshop and writing competition and a showing of a movie that he wrote called "Alibi Ike."

When it's all over, it will have been a lot of work, and I wonder if it will be worth it. Certainly it won't matter one way or the other to Ring Lardner. But will other people get something out of it?

It's one of the difficult things about doing programing of any kind, but especially the writing programing I work on. Writing is important to me and the enjoyment of my life - I guess I just assume that other people would be as eager to participate. But, I learned long ago that it's a matter of putting it out there and see who takes advantage of it.

And in the meantime, it doesn't hurt to recognize the writers who paved the way.

Inside / Outside

I love being outside!

I show a photo here taken by my daughter, not showing my best side, but looking out over the Snake River in Wyoming in the Grand Teton area this past spring.

I love being outside, but my life conspires to keep me inside. I'm a writer and a lot of that means sitting inside at a computer. I try to take my laptop or notebook out onto the deck as often as possible, but I'm a whimp. If it's too hot, too cold or too buggy - inside I go.

I'm also a quilter and a lot of that must be done sitting at a sewing machine, but as often as I can I take my handsewing and sit outside, except if it's too hot, too cold, etc., etc. (see excuses above!)

When we go on trips to the national parks, I'm so limited by my sore knees from doing the kind of hiking I would love to do. But it doesn't keep me from being outside. I like to sit on a porch or balcony, or even on a rock in the field and drink it all in.

So, I'm looking forward to our trip to Utah in October and hope it will tide us over the long winter in Michigan when being outside isn't that much fun.

32 & Counting

This day 32 years ago after our wedding Tom and I posed for this photo standing in my fancy Trans Am with our wedding party all around us.

It doesn't seem like that much time has gone by, but it has. When we stood at the church and said our vows "for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health" they were just words really - we had no idea what they would mean in the long run. How could we? I look back on it now and realize how naive we were - how naive all wedding couples are at that age.

What it means 32 years down the road is that we've had some of all that "better, worse, richer, poorer, sickness, health" stuff and we've survived it all. What it means is that we traded in our fancy sports cars for more practical vehicles and what we got in return was three kids who keep us broke, a house that needs constant attention and a few pets who do strange things at inconvenient times.

But we also got a family that has given us another set of contrasting scenarios "joy and sadness, hope and despair, pride and shame" - but most of all true delight in watching them grow and move on into adulthood and the honor of being in their lives.

With Tom I feel I have genuinely led a charmed life. We have had some difficult times, but somehow we always land on our feet. Now we get to spend more time together and also anticipate being grandparents to the next generation - one of which is already the light of our lives.

It's been a fun 32 years, Tom. We're still naive in a way, we certainly don't know what the next years will bring. I'm just very lucky I'll get to spend them with you. Much love, D.

Peach Pie Memories

I made a peach pie the other day. I used Michigan peaches, but they were not as sweet and juicy as I would wish. But it tasted good anyway and the crust was decent.

When I was a kid my mother or grandmother would make whatever kind of birthday "cake" we wanted and I always wanted peach pie. Because my birthday was in May (not peach season), peaches would have to be saved from the previous summer in the freezer. When my grandmother died several years ago, we found a pack of peaches frozen into an ice block in her freezer labeled "Denise's peaches." Who knows how long they had been there! At that point it had been quite a while since the ladies in the family made me a peach pie regularly.

But this pie I made sparked those memories. My grandma made the most delicious pies - especially her crust, and this blog name of "butterscotch pie" is in her honor.

I'm thinking more about the ladies in my family lately since my writing quartet is embarking on a new project - writing letters - and I'm going to write letters to my daughter about these women in my family. The letter about grandma will certainly have to touch a bit on her pie, although she was an amazing woman in several other ways too.

Judy's on the Lake

We met at Judy's house for Quartet this month and she lives in a house that overlooks a small lake that is nearly covered this time of year with lily pads.
We sat out on the deck and ate sweet cherries from a yellow pottery bowl, a delicious dinner and blueberry buckle for dessert.

Then we each read some of the writing we've been working on. Ali recently lost a close friend who was in her 50's when she died from cancer. Ali was freshly back from the funeral out of town, and read the eulogy she wrote, which was so touching and sweet, but also really good writing.

It's funny how some of the best writing comes when you are in the middle of an emotional time. Ali and I talked about this at lunch a few days later.... how this kind of writing comes straight from the heart when you are feeling too vulnerable and weak to put up the usual walls and do the self-editing that comes automatically when we think about things too much.

Ali's friend was lucky to have someone who cared so much and was so talented that she could send her off with a beautiful sentiment that perfectly captured her personality. I hope I'm that lucky when it's my turn to go.

Visiting Sparty

Tom and I just returned home from a weekend at Michigan State University in East Lansing where we stayed at the Kellogg Center, the on-campus hotel, and went to see Garrison Keillor's traveling summer version of "The Prairie Home Companion."

It was a fun weekend, where despite the rain, we managed to do a little antiquing, and stop at the dairy store on campus for ice cream. We even managed to bumble around campus a bit and drive by Sparty the statue.

Our daughter Sloan, who goes to school at MSU, wasn't in town this weekend, and I think it's the only time in three years we've visited the campus without coming to see her. She'll be back in town this week, and we'll be making a couple trips there to move her from one place to another.

She is entering into her senior year and Tom and I were wondering if we will come back to this town once she graduates. May as well enjoy it now, I guess, and this weekend was fun!

Travelling with Tom

Last year I gave Tom a photography workshop for his birthday and wanted to do it again this year, but he opted for a photography trip out west instead. Although we were just out to Wyoming this past May, he wanted to head back to Southern Utah.

He invited me to come along, and since it's about my most favorite place in the world, I said "yes" even though most of the time will be spent watching Tom do things like this photo of him at Monument Valley.

I don't mind. It gives me a chance to do something I've been calling "plein aire sketch writing" - which is a borrowed term from the art world which means creating art, usually painting, outside on site.

When I do sketch writing I try to capture with words the scene as Tom is seeing it through his camera, only I try to capture the other senses too. Not just, what am I seeing?, but what am I hearing, smelling, feeling, even tasting?

I experimented a little with this concept in the Grand Tetons this spring, but plan to use it more in Utah this fall. I'll post some examples when I have them.

Writing about Bears

I'm scared of bears.

With all our travels out west, we've only seen bears on two trips - my daughter and I saw a bear from the window of the train last year - and this past May when we went to the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone we saw several, including this one I'm showing here.

Tom took this picture of a grizzly bear on his way back from a morning hike alone in the brush along the river - did I mention it was bear country?

What you can't tell from this photo is that this bear had two cubs up a pine tree nearby - which makes her one of the most dangerous animals alive. A couple of months after we returned from this trip, a man and his wife were attacked by a mother bear in Yellowstone and the man was killed.

I am writing an essay about Tom and this incident called "Beaver and Bear" (he ran across the beaver on that morning walk) but the whole exercise is colored by my fear of bears in the wild. Luckily all the bears we saw this time we saw from the safety of our car.

Once again we dodged the bullet of coming upon a bear on the trail.

Checkerboard Mesa

I want to write about this.

It's Checkerboard Mesa and it resides in Zion National Park in Utah. I've visited the park two times, and each time I'm fascinated by this big rock. For three years it has been on my list of pieces I want to do for my National Park project - but I just haven't been able to tackle it.

The project is a series of essays and poems about the western National Parks we've visited over the past couple of decades. I just can't decide if this needs a poem, or if it needs an essay.

Certainly part of the problem is that each time we've gone to Zion, we just quickly drive by Checkerboard on the way into the tunnel and to the bottom of the canyon where the main part of the park is nestled next to the Virgin River. Once you're down there, it's not an easy drive back up all the switchbacks to return.

Tom and I are planning a trip to Zion in late October and this time we're going to pull over and spend some time visiting with Checkerboard. Then maybe it will tell me what it wants - my poetry or my prose. I'm looking forward to the meeting!

Too hot to write, too hot to bake

Like most of the rest of the country, we've been suffering through a heat wave here in Michigan the last few weeks - with not much relief in sight! I don't do heat well - which is certainly one of the reasons I live in Michigan right next to Lake Michigan. If I wanted to suffer like this I would live in Utah or Wyoming or Arizona (which admittedly are all hotter than here right now).

I feel captive to air conditioning with supplimental fans, just to be able to get through the day and night. This is the time of year fruit is in abundance, but I hesitate to heat up the house baking a pie too often.

But worse, I don't feel like writing. It's fun to think about the other 9 months of the year - "spending the summer working on my novel." Year after year I assume that I will have more liesure, more energy and more inspiration during the summer, and year after year it just doesn't happen.

So this year, once again, I have put my novel to one side until September while I work on a project for the Box Factory for the Arts, which needs to be done by mid-September. And I'm treating myself to just writing for fun.

In this case that will be more small essay and poetry pieces for my National Park project. Tom and I have scheduled a quick trip to Southern Utah this fall and I can day dream about that and while away my time during these hot, hot days writing about the forests and canyons in cooler weather and anticipate another look at my beloved red rocks.

"Fruits of the Forest"

A couple of days ago, on a beautiful summer evening, we met at my friend Ali's house for dinner and our monththly "quartet" meeting. One of the members was not able to come, but the rest of us carried on with barbequed chicken from a local restaurant, a noodle salad by Ali, and macaroni and cheese by Sue.

And I made a pie. A "fruits of the forest" pie that was a mix of blueberries, strawberries, blackberries and red raspberries - with a lattice top. It was pretty darn good, if I must say so myself (although the lattice top could have been a touch thinnner).

Then we took our glasses of iced tea into the front sitting room and read some of the writing we had each been working on. I read a poem that I wrote the day we signed the final papers to sell my late mother's home, and typically, I choked up and had to hand it over to Ali to finish reading.

We have taken on a new project for the next year - writing a series of letters. I have decided to write my daughter some letters about each of the women in my family who have shaped the kind of woman I am today - many of these are people she has never had the chance to meet. And one of them, of course, will be my daughter herself.

I'll be writing one a month for the next 12 months, and the other three women in the quartet will write their own letters, about their own hearts' passions.

And just like a "fruits of the forest" pie, which mixed four fruits into a delicious concoction, so will our writing blend together like a perfect recipe.

Iowa Workshop

I'm in Iowa City right now at the University of Iowa taking a workshop on revising a novel. Unfortunately, I think the only thing I'm really learning is that I have a long, long way to go on this book I've already been working on for three years!

It's good to have some uninterrupted time to think about the creative aspects of my life and, despite staying at the shabby on-campus hotel that is waiting for FEMA money to remodel after a flood, I'm enjoying myself.

But to tell the truth, I don't do as well with too much time to think. I get more accomplished when I have to fit that thinking in between a busy schedule. So Saturday I'll head back to Michigan and do just that. (And give up that self-imposed schedule of finishing my novel this summer.)

Books, books books!

It has taken me more than two months, but I finally finished (thanks to the help of my daughter) something I have never done in my entire life ..... sort my books.

I have a whole wall of bookshelves in our hallway that constitutes our library and another book nook in the study - every shelf in both spaces is full.

I also have 16 banker boxes full of books that will be donated in the next few days to our local library for their used book sale .. I figure I'm giving away somewhere around 300 books.

That means I still own at least twice that many! But now they are dusted and sorted and filed by type and author. In the old days it was honestly easier to go to the library and borrow, or to the book store and buy a book I knew I already owned, but just couldn't find.

Despite all the modern conveniences, books are still one of my biggest pleasures and it is so nice to walk by the shelves and see the covers of all my old friends lined up neatly and waiting for my attention, whenever I get around to it.

Poetry Month

Two years ago I decided to choose one month a year and write a poem every even day of the month. The first year I chose March. I had just taken a poetry workshop and , since I hadn't written much poetry at all, I decided that this was just the thing to get more practice.

Last year I chose April, which is officially national poetry month, and this year I've chosen May.

I've really enjoyed doing it for several reasons. Not only do I end the month with 15 new poems, it also makes me pay attention to my world a lot closer - just to have something to write about. Last year I was writing these poems during the worst of my mother's illness and I think it really helped me deal with those feelings.

This year I have a new goal. I want to slow down. I don't want to be in such a hurry to rush through my life. This has been challenging since I have a long list of stuff I NEED to get done in a short amount of time.

But I'm starting with my poetry and taking my time and figuring that the rest of the stuff will get done too if I just plug away at it - or maybe it won't and I have to be honest that the world won't come to a crashing stop if it doesn't.

I want to pay attention to the flowers and blossoming trees this year. I want to take the time to read good books, to carefully write things I will be proud of.
And, I want to spend time enjoying my family and friends and not feel so time crunched!

Modern Frustrations

I settled into my studio this morning for what was to be a productive full day's work and within minutes that plan crashed along with my computer.

It really had not ever given me any problems, no funny noises, no odd screens ... just an ratcheting noise, a freeze up, then failure to re-boot.

Unfortunately, I've been meaning to get an off-site back-up for that computer, but just had not gotten around to it. Most of my writing for the last three years is on that hard-drive.

Luckily I've backed up a lot of my writing on flash-drives and always print out a hard copy of everything, so none of my writing is lost. But the business I do for a couple of organizations I work for has not been backed up.

To make this even more frustrating, I'm on day 11 of my car being in for repairs and I'm juggling rides.

I always think writing is such a low-tech profession. All you really need is paper and a pencil - but take away those modern conveniences for a while - and I'm struggling and running in circles and not feeling productive at all!

April Again

It is April again.

One year ago, in a time that felt endless and yet passed so quickly, I was an observer to my mother’s last few weeks of life. I felt like a useless, hopeless, helpless wraith standing in the shadows powerless to do anything while she moved steadily down a road it was her time to travel. I was scribbling poems last April, writing about doctor visits, get well flowers and signs from God, but even the poems that weren’t directly about her wore a dark undercoat of my fear.

One day a care package arrived on my doorstep. I found it there on the front porch on one of the worst days of my life, the day I brought my mother home from the hospital to die. There was a glass jar filled with tulips, a bag of chocolates, a box of tea and a notebook. On the first page was a note from my dear writing friends inviting me to write about my feelings.

So, I did.

I wrote about the last hours of Mom’s life, about planning the funeral, about the ceremony. I wrote about the trip to the cemetery in between thunderstorms where I felt a small amount of peace for the first time in weeks as we laid Mom to rest next to Dad in a plot they picked out themselves because it was next to her parents and under a tree Dad particularly liked.

I wrote about my sister-in-laws, both of whom acted poorly – one snubbed me and one ignored me – and about the troublesome brother who took his pain out on me. I wrote about all the problems and agony sorting through the house when I felt I was emotionally and physically getting worn to the bone.

I wrote about my anger. Anger at my Mom for dying and leaving all this on my shoulders, anger at my brothers for getting off Scott-free doing none of the work and feeling none of the pain. And angry at myself for feeling so fragile and vulnerable and, yes, angry at these people I loved.

As I read through a lot of my writing from last year, I see that it’s all colored by my grief, even when I thought I was writing about something completely different. Several times I wrote about clearing my head, about putting aside the sadness, but it wasn’t really happening. Some incident would come up and I would feel like I was back to square one. It’s only now, when it’s April again and the daffodils are starting to pop, that I feel a bit better.

Mom’s birthday was in April. That date is still the code to get into her house; a sad reminder that this year she would have turned 80 and I was planning to give her a big party with all the family invited. Several years ago I started a tradition of giving Mom flowers on my birthday, May 4, as a thank you. Last year she died on May 1 and the flowers I gave her on my birthday were to decorate her casket.
This year I’ll wait a few more weeks until the weather is warm enough and then I’ll start a different tradition I will carry on for the rest of my life. I will decorate her grave with flowers and send up a prayer of thanks for the 57 years we had together.

And I’ll also say a prayer of gratitude for my writing friends – Ali, Sue, and Judy – who have been so patient with me this year. All of them have lost their own mothers, making us kindred spirits in a couple of ways – we are all writers and now every one of us is a motherless child navigating this world. But, we know how to take our feelings to the page and emerge transformed and ready to face our journeys like the Monarchs in our gardens last summer.

Spring Writing

My writing quartet met at Judy's house the other night and, in addition to a delicious supper, she served lemon meringue pie! Yum! She knows the way to my heart, and to her husband's too since he didn't want any of us to have seconds!

We only meet once a month and we take turns hosting. I so look forward to those times; it's a little oasis in a hectic life. Someone cooks a delicious dinner and then we sit around and talk about our writing and other things in our lives and there is no rushing off to do something else.

Next month it's my turn to host, and it's also near to the time of my birthday, so I'm planning a special meal and dessert. And I'm hoping it will be warm enough to sit outside. Happy spring everybody - finally!

Writing Rally

I just got back from Lansing, Michigan where I attended a Writers' Rally. It was an event with an opening speaker, a keynote speaker at lunch and four one-hour workshops you could choose from during the day.

I talked with a lot of nice people, met some new Michigan writers I've been wanting to meet and touched base with some I've met in the past.

I also came away ready to jump into my writing full time, and got some hints on marketing and new markets I can approach.

So, I'm going to start working hard, put my butt in the chair and write, and hopefully by this time next year, if I decide to return to that rally, I'll have some results to report.

Plan B

I heard from the graduate school I applied to, and I was not accepted. I was kind of disappointed - but surprisingly - not that much. At this point in my life, I've had enough rejection that I've learned to roll with it.

Also, I'm a big believer that things happen, or don't happen, for a reason. I was looking at putting my writing life on hold for two years while I satisfied the requirements for the degree, and I believe this is a sign that's not what I should do.

As a dear friend wrote to me when I told her about the rejection - "It must not have been the right path, find a different trail and follow it!"

So, that's my Plan B. I've cleared my schedule of work and obligations to go back to school - now I'm going to use that time to "school" myself and just pounce on it! As spring has finally arrived and I begin to see flowers blooming, I'm getting the itch to buckle down and seriously write.

Last year around this time I wrote about buying my mother flowers at road-side stands to cheer her up in what would be the last month of her life. This year I'll buy them for myself and fill vases to sit on my desk while I work on this next phase of my life.

And, of course, I'll think of my mother, but maybe not in such a sad way. Maybe just in love and gratitude for all she gave me during our long time together. As we near the anniversary of her death, I know that's what she would want for me.

Anticipation

I am waiting to hear if I have been accepted into the MFA creative writing program of my choice and I think I am down to the last few days. It's nerve racking.

I found a Web site that lists when the notices for every program in the country are sent out and the one I applied to sent notices by March 8 last year. So, it could be any day now.

This feels like it has been a long journey for me. I decided to pursue this graduate degree after my mother died last spring as a way of acknowledging a long-time dream and to honor her lifetime committment to art. I spent the summer and fall working on my writing sample, taking the GRE test, and assembling all the various pieces and parts required - then submitted it in December.

Now, here I sit, 10 months since I first came up with the notion and within a few days of finding out if I was successful. I have thought about a "Plan B" and I do have some ideas about what I could do, but don't even want to jinx myself by planning too much.

Here's to hoping!

The Art of Blogging

I've been blogging pretty regularly for a year now and following several other blogs by people I'm interesting in. Here's what I've found:

1. It's not easy to do. I don't always have something to write about and when I do, I walk a fine line between saying too much and being way too vague. This past year I feel like I may have bared my soul a bit too much - but they were honest feelings. It's annoying to read blogs that are so trivial you feel you waste your time by reading them.

2. It's not easy deciding how often to write. I try to update once a week, or four posts a month. There are some blogs I've stopped reading because they update too often - several times a day - they must just hang on that computer and that's too much work to keep up on it. But some people I really would LOVE to hear more about, update too seldom (you know who you are!) I've been waiting for new pieces from some of these people since the fall.

3. Is anybody even reading? I don't have many followers signed up, but people will comment sometimes on what I've written, so I know they are checking in. I started this blog as a way to build a "platform" for my writing, but it never has been just about that (there's that whole "pie" thing!)

So, I'm going to keep sending these little notes out into space and hope people touch base with me once in a while. And please forgive my attempts at poetry - I'm due to begin another session of "even day poems" in May and I'm sure I'll share at least a few.

Writing Quartet

I haven't written about my writing quartet for a while - but we are still hanging in there. We had a change in membership this year when one of the ladies had a baby and really has too much else on her mind. But we invited another like soul to join us, Judy, and she's been a delight!

We each write so differently:

Sue- is a medical technician by day and a poet at all other times. She loves to write about nature the most and is an avid birder. It's thanks to her that we are each trying to write a piece about birds for each month that we meet.

Ali- is an artist in addition to being a writer. In January she began the new job of executive director of the Box Factory for the Arts where both she and I have writing/art studios. Her writing is such an indicator of how she approaches life - short energetic bursts with wit and humor.

Judy- just retired in November and is revelling in her new found freedom and unlimited time to write. She is ethereal and mystical and I enjoy each piece of her writing because I feel it is so much a picture of her soul.

Denise - as for me I am plugging away, not sure where I want to go with my writing, but certainly feeling more comfortable and safe when I write about, and try to come to terms with, my past. I'm still struggling to deal with losing my mother, and just when I think I have passed a milestone and can start putting it in perspective, something happens and I find myself back to square one. Most of my writing in the past year really reflexs this struggle and I long to move on, while at the same time knowing that it will take time.

The four of us have much in common. We all love cats and each of us have at least one (Ali and I each have two) We all have long-term relationships with our spouses, which gives us a feeling of safety and stability at home. We all love the arts in its many forms. We all have a certain belief in the mystical and the world that can not necessarily be seen or fully understood.

And we all believe in the magic of putting words on paper and the notion that these words can live beyond us and serve as a sort of legacy.

Writing groups sometimes just fall apart for various reasons, but I hope this union of writing friends can continue as long as possible. It's an important part of my life.

Condor Wings

This is a poem for my "National Park" project from a trip taken in May, 2003








C ircling around the stone balconies
O n updrafts from the Grand Canyon,
N ot concerned with human onlookers,
D ark birds with giant wingspans glide
O ver the deep canyon cliffs while
R angers sing their praises.

W e stand in the North Rim lodge
I nterested, but preoccupied,
N ot knowing how rare the sightings.
G athering the wind gusts under their feathers,
S himmering condor wings move through bright blue skies.

From the corner of my eye as I stand in the lobby,
through the bank of windows overlooking the Grand Canyon,
I see huge black shapes soaring over the cliffs
and groups of people gathered on the stone balconies.

“Oh,” says the woman at the desk,
“those are condors, there’s a ranger out there talking about them.”
I stoop down to get a better look, to see the huge birds,
with their enormous wings, their bald, scabby-looking heads.

“How nice,” I thought. “We will have to catch this talk tomorrow.”
Now we need to check in, unpack the car, grab some lunch.
Not thinking logically, that there would be no lecture to attend.
Condors do not fly on a schedule or by command.

A Prayer and a Plan

Photo by Sloan Tackett

I’ve been thinking for a while now about what kind of writing I want to accomplish this year and, as usual, it’s a pretty ambitious list. I’m only planning for January through August because I’m hoping to head into graduate school in September and have a whole lot of other assignments to do. Here’s what I’m thinking:

National Park Project – I’ve been working on this project for two years. It is a collection of essays and poetry about the 9 national parks and 2 reservations we have traveled to in the last 20 years. It’s the kind of thing that could go on forever, since we certainly plan to continue travelling, but I’ve decided to cut it off and have it cover only 1989 – 2009. I plan to publish this collection in time for my birthday in May.

For the Birds – My writing Quartet meets once a month and this year we are writing to the theme of birds. We started this project last July, so I have 6 pieces to write this year for a complete set of 12.

NightWriter Assignments – I lead a writing group and we meet two times a month. The first meeting of the month has an assignment. We take a break over summer, so I have to write 5 pieces to complete this season, including a piece for the chapbook we produce every spring.

Travel Writing – When we go on a vacation I try to do some piece of writing for each day we are gone (poetry, essay or creative journal entry). Last year was so hectic I did not have time or “brain space” to revisit the notes I took about our trip to Santa Fe. I have 6 pieces I want to complete for that this winter.

The end of May we are heading out to the Tetons and Yellowstone and I will produce a new piece for each day we’re gone – about 8 – I’ll try to get those done as close to that trip as possible to capture my impressions while they are still fresh.

Even Day Poems – each year I pick a month and write a poem every even day. This year I picked May, which is my birthday month, but also pretty busy. I can use some of my travel writing work for this – they don’t necessarily have to be completely separate work.

“Beloved” Essays – with the finish of my National Park Project and the one year anniversary of my Mother’s death, I would like to tackle a project I’ve been thinking about for a while – essays about the women in my family – which would include her of course, but also my grandmothers, aunts, and my own beloved daughter. I think there will be about 12 pieces to this collection and I want to do one a month starting in June.

Novel – and last, but not least, I want to take time this summer, June – August, to do a push and finish the first draft of the novel “Copper” I’ve been working on. It’s about half done and I think some dedicated time would get me through to the point where I have something finished I could revise. I would like to work on fiction again since that’s what I hope to study in graduate school.

So, all this should certainly keep me busy and productive and doesn’t even take into consideration my job, which I will be doing through April, and a large literary project I’m coordinating for the Box Factory in St. Joseph.

I like to be busy. I love to write. Life is good!

Nolan's Milestone

Yesterday our grandson, Nolan, turned one. Last year I wrote a poem about the day he was born and it was 17-degrees and we had 18-inches of snow. Much different this year - 30-degrees and not a speck of snow.

He has been a God send to me this year - a bright and soft place to go when everything else seemed so difficult. Life goes on, and it's never more evident than with a grandchild. He brings a hope and excitement about our future - that's a lot of responsibility for one little guy - but I think he's up to it!