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.