Upstate Girl

A new year...

2012-01-14T20:37:00.001-05:00

Collage #1, 1/1/2012

It snowed...we rec'd a January's worth of snowfall in the last couple of days after balmy 40's flirting with 50's just a couple of days ago...Although I've been known to complain, I don't mind the snow, I don't mind the cold, it's supposed to be that way when it isn't, it feels wrong...a small flock of red wing black birds have been visiting my bird feeder today, poor little birds were feeling secure that it was okay to stick around the brown fields and marshes...the ground isn't frozen so there's been plenty to eat...oops...dang...so I stepped out and put extra in the feeder to feed the extra visitors...

Collage #2, 1/1/2012

Two Thursday's in a row, there has been a flock of crows outside of my office at work early in the morning...they are very noisy!

Taking Flight and Perching, 1/5/2012

Been laying low, not feeling 100%, the usual FMS stuff, back issues, and a digestive system that has not been happy with the rich holiday food, but I'm getting better, treating myself well...

Perching, 1/12/2012

I'm currently reading Owls Do Cry by Janet Frame...her writing is always so stunning, some passages are dense and gorgeous, while some are simply frank, to the point...my favorite part is the beginning of Chapter 4, page 19:

Their town, called Waimaru, was small as the world and halfway between the South Pole and the equator, that is forty-five degrees exactly. There was a stone monument just north of the town, to mark the spot, in gold lettering.

- Traveller, the writing said, Stop here. You are now standing halfway between the South Pole and the equator.

What did if feel like to be standing at forty-five degrees?
It felt no different.

Of course it doesn't feel different...it's just one of those things. It tickled my funny bone...I know such things have disappointed me in the same way...

Speaking of books...
Here's a recent review of Dusty Waters, even though it isn't the best, thought I'd share it anyway:

(2 stars) This book started out so well that I was captivated. I read it in 2 days. But about 2/3 of the way thru the book it fell apart for me.
The story is about a woman retelling her life story to a friend, who is writing her biography.
The young Dusty is so interesting and well created that I really liked her character. She sees ghosts throughout her life and she tells some of their stories, her interactions with them, and her own feelings about seeing them.
But the grown up Dusty is a woman I did not like at all. The author seemed to use this character as a political platform and the language used when writing for the adult was just unnecessary.
I could give this book 2 and 1/2 stars, but not 3...

No big deal. I appreciate the reader's thoughts...everyone comes to a book with their own set of tools from personal experience. To be honest, Dusty's adult life wasn't my favorite part to write, believe me, I know she made me cringe when I wrote her, what she went through is a complete departure from my life...her life did fall apart...there's something secure about childhood that is lost once we hit puberty and grow up, how we turn out comes down to choices and Dusty made many bad decisions...if I could, I'd ask the reader, "Do you think Dusty was happy with her adult self?" I don't think too many of us are completely satisfied with how we turn out when we grow up...Dusty had to start over, she grew, she "reformed", she went home again...just like Aunt Mabel and just like her mother...

As for Dusty's politics...this seems to ruffle the feathers of the more conservative readers, which I knew when I wrote it (I'm still waiting for a good old fashioned book burning, that trumps the "wall of shame" any day of the week!) Oh well...she's a folksinger (Are there conservative folksingers?) Dusty was born at the tail end of the Baby Boomer generation, she grew up during the Vietnam era with a different perspective than her older siblings. This difficult period in American history affected her psyche, and her edgy point of view about the human condition places her as a distinguished bookend for her generation...during the early stages of writing this book, I particularly went for this left leaning mindset in reaction to 9/11, I was feeling a bit outraged by the right and left division of our country in the aftermath of the tragedy. For the record, I'm a social liberal who's conservative slip shows on fiscal matters...and I support the protection of the wild horses out west...How about that BLM? Gotta love how they piss away millions of taxpayer dollars rounding up a few hundred wild horses and burros to make room for the tens of thousands of privately owned cattle who do more damage to the range environment...I could go on, but I'll step off my soapbox...

Language, this has upset a few more sensitive readers...yes, Dusty has a potty mouth, she comes by it honestly...she's seen things to make her angry enough to drop an "F-bomb" before 9AM on any given day...words are words, some are more colorful than others...for the record, I've been known to have a potty mouth...and yes, I have dropped the "F-bomb" before 9AM, with good reason.

I think the funniest thing I ever heard about a reader doing to a book with "too many swears" and "naughty parts" (I think it was The Time Traveler's Wife) she used white out and then was able to read it...whatever works, I guess.

Can't win 'em all...I writez 'em as I seez 'em, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

So my digital sketchbook is full again...overflowing...

I love studying shadows and shapes...the floor and stairway in the gallery caught my eye one early morning, some overhead lights had been left on...the mix of textures made this fun...

The kitties have been good...Crouching Tigger-Hidden Pooh sat semi-still long enough to catch his expression...he has developed little "worry wrinkles" on his brows...so cute! (He's 13 years old, will turn 14 in April.)

Popeye is looking good...he likes to pose for his portrait...

That's it for now...thanks for stopping by...

End of Year

2011-12-27T18:26:00.000-05:00

Rust 12/24/2011

It's been a long, strange year...with all the good that I experienced, I dealt with the bad...the loss of my mother being the defining moment...one thing I've learned out of this, the deeper the sadness, the greater the beauty.

Ice

My digital sketchbook is so chock full of beauty...I'm having trouble keeping up with what I find to photograph...

Hoar Frost Morning

Hoar Frost

Viola Leaf on Stone

My camera has lingered in the garden, photographing the decay of leaves, their paper thin skins lying on the barren surfaces of stones...

Snow Covered Dirt Road 12/24/2011

The trips to visit my father in the nursing home take us past places of interest, and I'm always finding something along the way...

Hook and Cable 12/24/2011

Electric Plastic Santa Light, 12/24/2011

Yes, Santa came and left presents...including a nice dusting of snow on our hilltop acre while folks down the hill had none...it was pretty nice having an exclusive white Christmas...

Snow Morning

Popeye Two Months Later...

Popeye has been a bright yellow tabby spot these last two months... he's a special little guy...I guess he came when I needed him, and when he needed us...he's settled in and is happy and healthy, he loves napping on the "people bed" with his buddy Butters and the two new additions to our family who came to us this year enjoyed their first Christmas in their new home. (They are just as spoiled at the rest of them!)

Digital Sketchbook...

2011-11-26T15:20:00.000-05:00

Grape Vine and Leaf, 11/25/2011

White Leaf

Grape Vines

Mock Orange Leaves

The Tangle on the Fence

Peony Leaves

Hosta Leaves

Hosta Leaf

I've been up and down, and all around...the turkey turned out perfect, the dinner was a spread of all spreads, I out-did myself again...Thanksgiving is thankfully come and gone...I'm resting quietly today, taking a load off to hopefully stay out of FMS flare-up land...this is always a "dance" that I must step lightly along and gently...trying not to set off that wretched bomb that ticks under my skin, in my connective tissues and joints, in the cartilage between my ribs, and in my head where there's something going on in the wiring of my brain that sends wayward signals or something...

Whatever...does anyone really know what Fibromyalgia is? (Other than a gianormous pain!)

I'm just damn lucky that I'm on the upside of whatever it is and I didn't have a flare-up start in the midst of all of the prep and festivities...I did all right. I can't complain...and so here I am, I'm surrounded by sleepy kitties and a snoring dog, so I'm pretty close to nap time myself...it feels good to have the option to not do a damn thing today!

Hi, Popeye! What a perky pair of ears you have!

Monday the stitches come out and the "fancy" collar goes away...we can't wait!

Post-op Popeye...

2011-11-16T20:22:00.000-05:00

Well, our little poop-deck kitty made it through the surgery to remove his damaged eye...he's livin' it up in a high collar and good pain killers, he's got a long recovery ahead, but his quality of life is going to be so much better than what he had when he first emerged from underneath our front porch, half-starved, suffering from a terrible eye injury and infection...he would've died. I hate thinking about that reality...saving his life is priceless.

Friday...

2011-11-11T17:33:00.002-05:00

Vacancy, 11/5/2011

Here are a few images from my digital sketchbook...these are photos I took on November 5th when I traveled to visit my father in the nursing home, this is the Jackson Potato farm on Route 31 in the town of Tyre near the Montezuma Wildlife Refuge...it's flat land, fertile black soil that has been farmed for generations, I have always enjoyed passing through this long stretch of road, watching for migrating birds...Canadian geese, snow geese, swans, and ducks.

Dirt road going into the field

The wall

Looking in

Looking up

The Remains

The empty building

I've been bedeviled by FMS all week long...muscle spasms, aches, tingling limbs and skin, sharp, prickling pains in random places, random numbness here and there that comes and goes, dizziness, nausea, exhaustion...the usual, but unusually intense (my legs and arms are like lead, I feel like I've run a marathon)...it's been cranked up an extra notch, "turned up to eleven"...the "how come" of it can be analyzed to death, I can blame it on a dozen things from the weather, to diet, to stress, to grief, to over doing it, to not doing enough, to nothing at all since it must be all in my head...it is what it is, a flare up...they come and go no matter what I do or don't do, the damn thing happens whenever and I'm a mess, emotionally and physically...it's frustrating.

In spite of it, I go forward...tho' on occasion I allow myself "time out" when I need it...hot baths are a must!

We have officially adopted our little stray friend, Popeye, who came to us unexpectedly on October 28th...he's currently recovering from a very bad infection, and will be having surgery to remove what remains of his ruined left eye on Tuesday, November 15th...we're keeping our fingers crossed that all goes well, and he will be getting better soon!

Popeye, our little one eyed kitty

The picture I'm including here is from a couple of days ago, he is improving every day...the bright shiny green eye that remains is very expressive...he's a quiet, contemplative little fellow wearing yellow, loveable, and is very fond of gently head butting me in the mouth first thing in the morning (he's been living in the bathroom since his arrival.) He's been coming out to meet the other kitties for the last few days, and today, since I've been home all day feeling poorly, I let him out to roam freely, mingling and napping...he's shy and curious, the boys have become accustom to his smell through the door and have had brief, nose touching meetings, so they quietly welcomed him, and accepted him without much fuss...probably the easiest integration of a new kitty ever! I'm guessing they know on their level of awareness that he's injured and sick, so they've been on their best behavior...although a few cases of bushy tail has gone around, the boys haven't raised a paw or growled...not even a whisper of a hiss in response to any of his warnings...they've been good boys!

Eventful...

2011-10-30T16:21:00.000-04:00

There are times in which I feel like screaming "Stop the world, I want to get off!" Yet I stick it out, day in and day out, getting it done, the whatever "it" is that comes my way...sometimes it's just one thing after another..."You know, it's always somethin'."

Like the rest of the country that got it, we got the first snow on Thursday night...a black out came along with it too...and when the power came back on, the storm itself was pretty much done, so I gained a false sense of security thinking "all's well" and started various tasks all requiring electricity...Laundry, Cooking Dinner, a Hot Bath...and then Bingo! A brown out...so everything had to be shut down...soggy laundry in both machines, partially cooked components for dinner was tucked into the fridge to be continued another time, (I had guacamole and chips for dinner instead, yummy enough, but it wasn't my planned baked heavenly mac n' cheese.) And we also ran out of water in the tanks. Drag.The brown out went on all night with several power outages mixed in during the wee hours until finally by morning the power came back on full...could've been worse...just annoying. It became bitter cold out, dropping into the 20's burrrrrrr! I'm grateful for our woodstove to keep us cozy.

Max and I went outside late that night to admire the stars and the white blanket covering our acre of the world. He became fascinated with something under the porch, so I called him away (always fearing there'd be a skunk under there one of these days! He's been sprayed before, and I've been lucky enough to not be near ground zero of the deed at the time!) I shined the flashlight around and didn't see anything or hear anything...no tracks in the snow...we went inside with caution...I didn't put the pieces together until the next day...

From a white out, to a black out, to a brown out...the morning was very white...

On Friday afternoon, I came home early to take my doggy to the vet for a quick check of his infected ear, and just as my son and I were getting ready to leave we heard a kitty crying...and there under our porch was this pitiful little fellow with a badly injured eye (very likely he got biffed by a car and amazingly survived)…we coaxed him out, got him into a cat carrier and took him along for the ride (arriving a little late for our appointment.) It’s clear he is not feral, that he belongs (or did belong) to someone, he’s people friendly and neutered, go figure how he came to be all the way out here on our acre of the world. They find their way to us, the little critters who need help…it’s just us. So a free vet visit later, with free antibiotics and free advice, I’ve been seeking help through a cat rescue group to get the little guy fixed up, we are going to become the foster home, and I’m also chipping in to cover surgery to remove the eye (which won’t be cheap!) The eye is so badly damaged it can’t be saved (but the kitty can be saved.) So…you might laugh (or be appalled), we’ve named this tough little buddy “Popeye” (I am what I am and that’s all that I am)…he’s a real sweetheart and very lovable…aren’t they all? I don't want to post a photo of his face just now, he's not a pretty sight at the moment, it's just heart breaking. Whatever his story is, we may never know how he came to be under our porch in such rough shape, but for now, he’s safe with us, and hopefully will recover and live out the rest of his natural life in peace and secure that he will be loved…

Popeye napping

And so that’s my story…never a dull moment! I have a full plate in my life and I wouldn't want it any other way!

Sunday night....

2011-10-23T20:18:00.000-04:00

Maple Leaf and Seeds, 10/22/2011

It's the end of a creative weekend, I took several long studious walks around the acre with my good dog, Max...the dog sniffing the ground for interesting smells, and I looking at the ground for interesting objects to photograph...filling my digital sketchbook with more pictures...

Maple Leaf Layers, 10/22/2011

Maple Leaf, 10/22/2011

The Remains of Summer's Lilies, 10/22/2011

Viola Leaf on Stone, 10/22/2011

Wild Cucumber and Burrs, 10/22/2011

Willow Leaf, 10/22/2011

Mushroom Group (under the lilac bush), 10/22/2011

It felt good to be so productive image-wise...although I've been a bit woozy at times, fatigue mostly, but some of the woozy feeling is from euphoria because I finished my first painting since my mother's passing...it's good...it's what I wanted to do with that blue-black square that I had staring at me for a week...

The Blue Square Window 10/23/2011

http://ohdrat.blogspot.com/

Quiet...

2011-10-16T12:34:00.000-04:00

Milkweed Leaf, 10/14/2011

I'm trying out a new background design...I think I like it...for now.

Old brick, with accidental paint. Summer 2011

(Oops!) I spilled some turquoise paint on an old brick during the summer when the wind knocked my little paint cup off the table on the porch...look how pretty it is now! If you look close at the milkweed leaf photo, you'll also see some flecks of turquoise on that too! They were all in the same general area of my studio table on the porch. It already feels forever ago...

It's been a quiet weekend (and a long one, as we took Thursday and Friday off)...for this I'm grateful. I needed the down time to reboot my brain, get some rest...I even made time to tip on the couch and watch a movie (Out of Africa, again.) Although the weather has been threatening there have been some moments of pristine October blue in the midst of the gray, sunshine to sit in, I made time to watch the world go by...

Leaves on the path, 10/14/2011

My little dog buddy Max has had a bad middle ear infection, but is on the mend, poor little fella, never complains...he's the best of good boys about taking his pills. His birthday is October 20th, he will be 12 years old.

My father has gotten better in some respects, but worse in others, dementia seems to have gotten the better of him (this is how his father went, and my mother warned us this is how it is going to be.) He has reached a plateau in his recovery, and it's very sad to see him slipping away from us a little at a time. He time travels mostly now, and his busy mind invents many scenarios, one happens to be a girlfriend...oy vey, right? Somehow I believe that his being smitten with a lady so soon after my mother's death is not a bad thing, it is filling a hole that he's feeling inside...and there is nothing finer than the euphoria of being in love to make you feel good when you're feeling so sad...I'm not going to deny him that bit of happiness even if it's only in his mind. He knows us, he is happy and safe...this matters most of all.

In all of this, I've managed to find quiet. It hasn't been easy. As you can see, I've taken lots of pictures...

White Feather, 10/14/2011 Just a lone feather on the leaves...

October Rose, 10/12/2011

I've moved along to visit other chapters in Drinking from the Fishbowl, and added some new work to Layers of Illusion, so I'm slowly getting back into the rhythm of writing... a new canvas that I've started is waiting for the next layers of paint, I'm pretty excited about it, yet apprehensive, it's one of those moments of uncertainty, I'll be all right once I'm "there"...some smaller works on paper have taken shape...fooling around with colors, staining papers and making marks...

I couldn't resist turning the milkweed leaf photo into a duotone, the texture is so beautiful!

October...

2011-10-01T21:02:00.001-04:00

Sumac Leaves, 9/29/2011

Bones of the Earth, 9/29/2011

The Horse Barn, 9/25/2011

Looking for a four leaf clover, 9/25/2011

Sumac leaves, 9/29/2011

The compost heap had some pretty leaves in it and I ran inside to grab my cameras to take pictures...suddenly I had almost 200 photos...just a handful are good...some okay, some not so good...good thing there's no film involved, right? I think I took more time fussing and focusing when I had a roll of 24 loaded...and would get a little careless with a roll of 36...whatever, right? The little point and shoot cameras are giving me a creative outlet that I need for the moment...blurry pictures happen, it's part of the process.

(I really should wear my reading glasses while taking pictures, that way I can see the screen better!)

I've been reading a lot (books written by other people, not mine) and I've once again fallen in love with E. M. Forster...A Passage to India is such a beautiful book, I can't believe I hadn't read it sooner...but I suppose, the time was right for it.

I traveled to visit my father at the rehab center last Saturday, he's doing well...but has come to a "plateau" in his progress. Sometimes it is the little things that trip one up, recovering from surgery for a broken hip is one thing, he's doing well in that respect, but he is failing in the basics of self care, and this is of grave concern...so while hearing my sister telling me that he is not coming home, I felt shocked at first, but then after digesting it, I knew this is right. Our mother was doing all the care taking, giving the cues, poking and prodding, and doing every thing possible to make the situation appear "fine", when it wasn't. We, the children, have been in denial. Now we know. And now it's our decision.

Life progresses in strange paths that are unfamiliar and overwhelming...we're hanging in there.

This morning, my Fred and I installed our artwork at the Central Library at the Galleries on South Salina Street in beautiful downtown Syracuse, our wall looked fine...people were already looking. One fella wasn't sure if he'd pay $400 for a painting of splashes of color...but then after he spent time with them and looking (really looking) he piped up that he liked them well enough after all. The display is up through the month of October.

How about the Occupy Wall Street protests, huh? Awesome...I've been catching some of the various live feeds in NYC and along the way, I've come upon the We Are the 99 Percent...a blog full of very inspiring, sad and unfortunately true life stories...check it out...it will make you angry and it will make you cry.

http://wearethe99percent.tumblr.com/

October is one of my favorite months, even its rainy days are lovely, we've had mist all day, and oddly enough, I didn't run out to take photos of any of it. But I know in time, things will adjust and I will get back into creativity as normal...but for now photos and drawings are how I am coping.

It is true, the deeper the sadness, the greater the beauty.

The Pretty Hill, Route 31 outside Port Byron, New York, 9/24/2011


An interesting sign along Route 31, Lock Berlin New York, 9/24/2011

I'm still here...

2011-09-22T18:52:00.001-04:00

Me n' my shadow dog out for a walk on one of the few sunny days we've had lately...it is a bit disheartening to have the grayness already set in so soon...rain is tapping at my studio window tonight...Max is making his bored doggy noises, he'd like to go outside to sniff for stories and watch the world go by...

The best of good boys taking a snooze in the sun...

O little Woolly Bear, why do you have brown eyebrows this year? What are you trying to predict with that added accessory to your fuzzy wardrobe?

Old lace from last fall

Lingering leaves from last fall

Tiger Lilies

I am just in love with black and white photos...and playing with duotones...

Blue and Gold

Finally, a sunflower bloomed!

A rainbow above the barn roof

I've collected lots of pictures, and have taken my sweet time processing them...falling behind. Not a heck of a lot going on, yet too much to want to talk about. My father is recovering from his broken hip, the surgery was a success and he's going to be going home in a couple of weeks, there's much to do to prepare for that event...I'm still catching myself having mini meltdowns in the middle of the day, it just suddenly hits me that my mother is gone and the unfairness makes me angry...it's all part of the process, I am being kind to myself by just going with it when it happens, no sense in fighting it...

Of course, FMS has been a factor, consistently in chronic pain...but I keep going in spite of it, at times a bit wobbly...and some days my skin hurts, I don't know if any other Fibromyalgia patients have that phenomenon...seriously, my skin freaks out over elastic waist bands on underwear, bras, tights, jeans...some days are purely hellish, and there's nothing finer than a hot bath and a glass of wine to soothe away the aches...and my bed...I love my bed.

I've been keeping busy, writing has been at a crawl, which is unfortunate, but I have made progress when I have settled down with a chapter, the editing of Drinking from the Fishbowl is coming along, so I shouldn't complain at all. Dusty Waters continues to sell and is being read, The Fractured Hues of White Light is hanging in there, behaving like the typical second book...

The latest version of normal is taking shape, I'm taking it one day at a time...

Just a slice of color...

The things I found today...

2011-09-11T22:02:00.000-04:00

My treasures from today

Railroad tracks...

The dots on the bridge wall

I can't read chicken scratch either...

I love rust...

Kitty Crossing...

Kitty with muddy paws got to the other side...

My Fred and I treated ourselves with two whole days of staying at home...it seems we've been on the run going here and there and being tugged about for this and that...well, it felt good to relax and if we felt like doing something, we did it...so we took a ride out to Lakeland, parked, and went for a walk along the old railroad tracks to take pictures...now the two of us are collectors of various odds n' ends, we both love rusty old bits of metal...and I also like the shiny stuff, glass, pottery, and rocks...and lots of pictures...

On the way home I bought a new canvas, so painting isn't too far from my mind...and I've been back to work on Drinking from the Fishbowl this weekend, that chapter 42 has been troublesome, but I think I have a handle on it now, I've printed a hard copy and might do the old-fashioned cut n' paste editing with scissors and tape tomorrow, I do that because I'm a visual person, sometimes just reading it over and over, backwards and forwards doesn't work anymore...so I hack it up and tape it together once the pieces fit right and then I go back to the laptop and fix it...lots of fun for me, watching grass grow for anyone else, I suppose...

Although time marches on as it always does...I'm not quite feeling back to "normal" just yet, I really miss my mother...whenever I get the urge to talk to her, especially during that time of day when I would call her up (such as when I found that old Pertussin bottle today) I just talk to her...whatever works, right? The afterlife has always been a fascination for me, and I wonder if she's here and there, leaving signs, watching, waiting...or possibly, moved on...

My father seems to be coming along, healing, still grieving, but getting closer to going home with every passing day...heading toward his new version of normal.

When it rains, it pours...no shit.

2011-08-27T12:42:00.001-04:00

Discarded No. 1, 8/9/2011

Discarded No. 2, 8/9/2011

Discarded No. 3, 8/9/2011

Discarded No. 4, 8/9/2011

First of all, thank you for your kind comments and emails to me, I really appreciate your wishes and sympathies...it does help in that quiet way, I did receive some sense of buoyancy.from your thoughts. The month of August has been a very strange period in my life...the loss of my mother was the major, life changing event, and then three weeks later my poor father had an accident at home, breaking his right hip...not a good thing for an 84 year old man to deal with at this point in his life while still suffering from the heart ache of losing the love of his life...but perhaps the nasty irony is, he's now forced to think of himself in a different way. During the days following the funeral, he had been managing all right, being forward thinking, and learning that being alone at home with his new reality...my father is a very contemplative and curious fellow, and yet, has managed to maintain a sweet innocence about life that is very matter of fact. The good news is he made it through the surgery to fix the hip, the surgeon was please with how everything went together, but now the long unknown road to recovery commences. His long term chances are 50-50. His survival will rely on his spirit and the determination to return home...he's made it known that he hates lying around, and he wants to go home...baring complications, I believe he will go home. Now the hard part for me was leaving him to take care of me. Between the crappy FMS flareups and troublesome sciatic nerve pain because of that dang bulge in the L4/L5 disc in my back I'm quite the little pain-ball at the moment...most of it being my own fault for not being good to myself during this difficult time. Thankfully, being my father's daughter, it is my stubborn spirit and determination that will keep me going forward in spite of adversity...

Discarded No. 5, 8/9/2011

The photos are from my parent's yard in Lyons, NY...of all things, their compost heap. These are perhaps the last things that my mother clipped and tossed in there before she passed away... and as of yesterday, the lawn mower man came and has since added grass clippings on top of the discarded flowers from the funeral, of which I did not get to photograph before I left yesterday...

Loss...feeling lost...

2011-08-10T13:27:00.000-04:00

My Mother's bed 8/2/2011

My Mother passed away on August 3rd due to the inter-cranial bleeding from a stroke that put her into a coma on August 2nd, Janie was 80 years old. She got up that morning, made her bed, went about her daily routine until she complained to my father that she didn't feel well, and suddenly she fainted, and never woke up. Although it was very unexpected, I believe she knew her time was coming. She hadn't been ill at the time, she had been doing well since she had a TIA last January, a warning shot over her bow you could say, she had briefly lost her eyesight but gained it back quickly and resumed her life as a folk artist, painting was one of her joys in life. Her doctor was monitoring her and I believe she was due for an appointment in September...although some of us had noticed some forgetfulness and repeating herself during conversations, she seemed to be chugging along fine on her own steam, she was such a lively little lady no one suspected a thing...we knew if she didn't feel good she'd say so because she was a squeaky wheel when things weren't right in her world. My poor father has been left behind, and the rest of her family and friends in shock, who would've thought that she would up and die so suddenly, but yet, this would be the way she'd prefer it...to leave the world while still in motion, she would have made a terrible patient...

A is for Angels...this was in the Comfort Room where she spent her final hours...it was very appropriate as she loved angels.

We buried her on August 9th, and the sky opened up and poured rain almost all day long, it was pretty awful out, and I'm sure Janie would have been ticked off by the "shitty weather" on the day of her funeral.

The flowers from the funeral 8/9/2011

We brought home the flowers and set them on the front stoop as we unloaded them from the cars, they looked so pretty there we left them as a tribute...

The garden

This is the house that I grew up in, my father built it...of course with the help of several local craftsmen and laborers...it is a sweet little house, tho' at times I wonder how five of us lived in there without killing each other...I was outside most of the time, a roamer from dawn to dusk...I came home for meals and when the street lights came on...my mother had an iron school bell to call me home with when I was needed...I could hear it from a mile away...if not more. I've been told on more than one occasion this past week how much I resemble our Janie...I am, after all, Laura Jane...what a rebel name...yes, I am my mother's daughter, and there were times we didn't see eye-to-eye, there were times it seemed we couldn't exist in the same space because we were too alike and sometimes that isn't a good thing, but as we've aged we've gotten on better, and I loved calling her up and letting her talk because she was such a treat to listen to, a chip off the old block of her father, Gordon...I'm just the latest version of them both and Great Grandma too, but with a good blend of my father to balance things out just enough so the chip isn't so jagged that I'd miss the block too much...

Impatiens in an enamel coated metal colander, she planted these special this year and was very pleased about how well the flowers were doing in this arrangement...

I saw this the morning after she passed...a sweet little still life in the garden

The porch, with all of her things...

Although she's gone, she is everywhere we look in her house. Goodness knows, I will miss her every day for the rest of my life...I've had to "talk" to her a few times to ask her "What did you do with your wedding picture, Mom?" I found it tucked away in a photo album, the frame must've gotten broken...it took only patience to find it, and I found a second copy of it in a paper bag in the hall closet, full of photos from her mother's house after her father died...I am the finder of lost objects, except when it's my own things...(I do find them eventually in the last place I look, just like everybody else.) The photos that I found are treasures that will be comfort to us all...

My mother was a folk artist, she painted many beautiful things, usually on old wooden boxes, boards, bowls, benches, stools, chairs, and other odds n' ends that she'd find...and she won prizes at the New York State Fair. My sister and I will make certain that her entries are delivered this week as scheduled, she would've wanted us to do that...


Her final piece.

This is the last piece she worked on, it is the lid of a picnic basket, featuring historical buildings in our home town Lyons NY where she lived all of her life. All that was left to do is to finish the Wayne County Courthouse, and I've been asked to finish it for her...I couldn't work on it yet, but I will make a special trip home to take care of it...I need a little time to fill the hole left in my life, get back to something resembling "Normal"...and help my siblings settle our father into his new routine without his Janie, this isn't going to be easy, we're playing it by ear, hoping he can stay at home for as long as he wants to and for as long as he's able.

Elemental...

2011-07-25T20:30:00.000-04:00

Slate, 7/20/2011

Wall and Sky, 7/21/2011

Discarded weeds, 7/23/2011

A Flutter-bye, 7/23/2011

Leaf in shadow, 7/23/2011

Summer Lilies, 7/23/2011

"J", rusted metal found by my Fred along the railroad tracks, 7/24/2011

A collection of railroad spikes (also found by my Fred), 7/24/2011 (The shadows are SOOOO COOL!)

It's been wicked hot here, as it's been everywhere else it seems, I heard we hit a record of sorts, 100 on Thursday, which is highly unusual for Upstate New York...the sky has been a brilliant blue for many days, we got some rain today, but it's been too long coming...

Opening Night at Szozda Gallery, 7/22/2011

My Fred and I had an opening of our exhibition on Friday...more pics n' details at my art blog Follow Your Bliss...

I spent much of the weekend photographing things, looking at everything, reading and making a few changes to a chapter or two in Fishbowl, and napping (nothing finer than falling asleep in a comfy chair on a breezy porch on a hot day)...I've had a busy week full of many accomplishments at work and personally, and through much of it I struggled with the FMS trash-compactor feeling...yeah, that's the best way to describe the wretched overall 'I feel like shit' feeling that I get from time to time, it's a warning that I need to slow down. So in spite of all of this wonderful stuff happening, I can still feel like shit and get through it with a smile. I think I can do this as long as what I'm doing is making me happy, that's all I can say...my art, my writing, my photos, my garden, my Fred, our son, my five cats and one dog named Max keep me going no matter how shitty I feel.

detail of one of my paintings, Evening, Blue and Gold, 2010-2011, acrylic on watercolor canvas, 24 x 18 inches

Sunday morning...

2011-07-10T09:14:00.001-04:00

Fragment, (Old Chimney Brick) 6/28/2011 (previously posted at From my acre of the world...Tumblr site, 7/3/2011)

Fragment, 6/28/2011

I love the variety of colors and textures of old bricks, their surfaces eroded by time, they’re so beautiful to me. The old chimneys of our farmhouse were taken apart when we had the new roof put on the house, there were four of them originally, three were no longer in use or attached to anything and falling apart, when the last one started to lean a few years ago, we had to take it down to replace it with a nice new brick chimney…I’ve saved the old bricks, line gardens with them, their fragments fill bottoms of planters for drainage, I re-use what I can…occasionally, I’ll find a chunk or two under a bush or tucked in the weeds, it’s a mystery to me how these things travel, but they do get around the acre…

I've been working my way through the final chapters of Drinking from the Fishbowl, plagued by self-doubts while not working on it and then perfectly happy with it while I am...typical, nothing new. I've become snagged on the last chapter, have practically re-written it in the places that needed work and suddenly what was once a fragment of a thought took on a life of its own, and I'm on the fence about cutting out original material, which is still valid, but does it belong to this chapter any more? If I cut it out, will I miss it? It's funny how I've cut this book to ribbons over the years, and cringed at cutting things that I fear that I will miss, only to find that no, I don't (maybe the more recent cuts made last Fall I still look for.) Originally, it was my plan to have this book ready by Fall 2011 to publish, but it's not looking likely, after this latest go around, I've made up my mind to set it aside for a month or two, work on something else...(so she sez)...or I could start over and get back into the thick of it while it's still fresh in my mind and I think I know what I want to do (cutting more from it!) But...but...but... ugh, I can make myself go crazy fussing over it. I've been taking it slow with this one, it's size has always been a troubling factor...it's currently hovering at about 525 pages (standard ms double spaced, 12 point), where before it was closer to 800 than it was necessary, so I've taken it in hand and compacted it to a more manageable size, but still, it is a handful.

Layers, 7/3/2011 (posted on From my acre of the world...)

A hungry caterpillar, 7/3/2011

The acre has been busy with life, things growing and little barn swallow peas fresh from their pods lined up on the power line leading to the garage, learning to fly, growing their swallowtails...lots of flutter-bys, and the baby crows, although fledged and as big as their parents are still fussing and demanding, whiny little things! (Pitiful baby cries.) The Pileated woodpecker loves our half-dead tree on the corner of the back driveway entrance, I watched him this morning hammering away, throwing wood chips around (for once he didn't take off when I came along with Max!) Poor Max was having wood chips fall onto his back while he sniffed the bushes under the tree. Unfortunately, I never have my camera with me when the big bird is around, one of these days I'll get a photo...well, shoot, I thought I had more photos of the garden, but I guess I haven't downloaded them yet...another post for another time...

A few hours later...I just finished re-reading the last chapter of Drinking from the Fishbowl and after a few adjustments, a cut and paste from here to there, I think it's done . I'll read it again in a few days to let the dust settle...but I believe it's how it should be- oh happy day!.

Expectations, the readers reviews of Dusty Waters: A Ghost Story

2011-06-26T13:46:00.001-04:00

It’s been two years since I published Dusty Waters: A Ghost Story, being an independently published author is a lot like being a stray cat out looking for a home or going about their independentness scrounging for what they can get, usually very little... some people don't want you around and throw shit at you to scare you off, some come at you, cautiously cuz you might be overzealous with rabies, while some welcome you with open arms, give lap time, food, and warmth. I’ve been quite pleased with the result of my experiment as an independently published author—my little ghost story is finding homes, being read—most of them like it (even better, some say they love it!) Some tell me that it made them laugh and cry, some start reading it again because they loved it so much. Some say they will tell everyone they know about it. Some have felt a little middle of the road about it, it was good, but there was something that didn’t sit well, and a few downright hated it. Throughout this process I’ve experienced the highs and lows emotionally, have taken care to develop a thick skin, and a c’est la vie attitude, I can’t please them all, and above all, it’s business - a subjective business.With that said, here are the reviews, thirteen of them…

Reader #1***** (5 stars) What a story!
This is a darn good book, gifted to us by an accomplished storyteller. We're treated to an extremely satisfying array of characters, from the quiet, marred Asher, to raucous, sequined Dede; and guided by the quirky, gravel-voiced, 6 feet, 3 inch creator of Dusty Boots Records.

I read fiction to be absorbed, to move into a house with people I don't know yet, to sit in the chairs in the parlor, or disappear into the library behind the secret panel and see the dust on the book jackets and smell the air from the open window. I want to hear the creek bubbling past the broken down willow, and taste the heat from the Taos desert. I want to smile, laugh, fear, suffer, love with the people on the page.

Dusty Waters delivers.

This is a memorable book. The plot devices are adroit, and there are admirably adept methods Ms. Ryan uses; how does a writer convey to the reader that it's hard to get a single message separated from a litany of ghostly memories? The way Laura does it.

There are words and phrases that delight - "suchthings," and "nonstop raspberry."

I'll read Dusty Waters again. Happily.

Reader #2 ***** (5 stars) Not at all what I expected...Wow!
Dusty Waters is a 5 star read. We meet Dusty in her 40s (I think?) and she is somewhat of a hippie in that she stands up against the government through her songs and her unashamed preaching. She is smart and has lived a life. Her childhood friend, Katharine, is writing a book about Dusty (now that Dusty is a famous folk singer) and "Dusty Waters: a ghost story" is a mixture of the interviews that Dusty and Katharine share, and the back stories that Dusty tells in first person narrative. Always intense, realistic conversations, fully-body characters and I loved every one of them.

Dusty sees dead people. No, not in a "Sixth Sense" sorta way, but just in that she can see the ghosts of people who have yet to move on with their "lives". Many of the dead will live the same last moments over and over again, dying over and over. Or some will wait in a certain place where they felt most comfortable in their living "life"... for someone, or something. Dusty sees these spirits- ever since she was a child (of about 4 years) and her father suddenly died of an aneurism at the breakfast table. After he died, she could still see her father sitting at the breakfast table for 3 years, until they moved back to a family heirloom of a house that got passed down from generation to generation.

At the "new" house where Dusty's mother grew up, Dusty can see all of her ancestors trapped inside the house. But, it's not in a scary way. Some of them died brutal, mis-informed deaths, but none wished ill-will to Dusty. The ghosts were so trapped inside their own misery or solitude, that most didn't even notice that Dusty could see them.

Dusty Waters is about self-discovery, trusting one's instincts, true love, growing up in war, losing family members, growing up, and being true to oneself.

The only issue I had with the book was it seems to be marketed as a Ghost Story- as in a horror book. Even the cover art looks a little creepy. "Dusty Waters" has ghosts in it, sure, but it's not ABOUT the ghosts. It's so much more than that. If I could change anything about this book, it would be the cover and the marketing strategy. Because "Dusty Waters" is not scary... it's beautiful.

Reader #3 **** (4 stars)
This is a story about the life and loves of Dusty Waters. She is a folksinger with an attitude, but if you had lived through what she has I guess you would be the same! Dusty can see and communicate with ghosts. This gift is found out when her dad tragically died one morning and never really left. After this the family moved into Tanglewood (a mysterious mansion-like place) and with even more ghosts to keep Dusty busy. This biography of Dusty and her life living at Tanglewood is an interesting one. Reading this book you feel like the nosey neighbor peeking into her life...not a lot of books can make you feel like you there and observing.

Reader #4 **** (4 stars)
I loved this book! I was going into it expecting something really supernatural, focused on spirits/ghosts. Instead I read a beautiful story about living life. Dusty's ability to see ghosts is just a part of her, like being tall, or having curly hair.

Dusty's voice carried me along on a gentle pace through the story of her life. I laughed, I cried, and I put the book down feeling better for having read it. I can't wait to pick it back up and read it again!

Reader #5 **** (4 Stars)
I totally enjoyed this one and for so many different reasons. Laura's writing style is just really awesome and has a unique flow to it. She really managed to make the story feel intimate.

'Dusty Waters: A Ghost Story' was certainly a unique book. I initially got interested in this one because it was a "ghost" story, but it turned out to be so much more than that. Yes, there are ghosts in the book, but I think this one really dug deeper. It really hits on the "ghosts" of our past and how they shape the person we are today. I loved the sometimes nutty main character, Dusty, and the stories she told. They were each unique and again, I think it showed how the ghosts of our past affect the person today.

I have to mention the format of the book because I really thought it was great. Each chapter starts out with a transcript of an interview done with Dusty while working on a biography...it then switches in to what I would call a flashback.

Overall, I thought this one was enjoyable. No matter what kind of ghost story you're looking for you may just find it here. I'd call it a relaxed and easy-going book.

Reader #6 **(2 Stars) Note: added to reviewer’s personal “losers” list
Dusty Waters, A Ghost Story, is not a ghost story. It's a people story with ghosts on the sidelines. Dusty is a folksinger, who just happens to be able to see and communicate with ghosts. The book is about Dusty having her memoirs written by an old friend. That was interesting enough to make me immediately want to read this book. Sadly, for me, the result was rather boring. Imagine if Forrest Gump was female, and could see ghosts. Not that Dusty was challenged in any way other than her second sight, but she was, like Forrest, overly calm and accepting of the ghosts around her. Kind of like "Ohhhh-Kaaay". A very ordinary story about an ordinary family. The settings and historical events that provided the backdrop for this growing girl and her family could have provided enough interest to save the book, but it simply failed. The historical family mansion, for example, complete with ghosts and hidden rooms should have provided lots of entertainment in itself, but because the ghosts were as ordinary as the living, and Dusty's reaction and interaction with them bordered on deadpan (no pun intended), there was no "hook". The characters were likeable enough, but once the book was closed, I did not feel drawn back to it. Pretty mediocre.

Reader #7 **** (4 Stars)
This was about the life story of a fictional character named Dusty Waters, a folksinger. When her father died one morning at breakfast she saw and conversed with him at the breakfast table for the next three years. No one in her family believed she could see his ghost and called her crazy. When they moved into her Mother's ancestral home, she saw and heard family spirits. I liked the way the author wrote the story. Sprinkled throughout the book, it was written as though Dusty was being interviewed by the writer, Katherine, a friend. There was funny parts and sad parts like all stories, and she did a good job with the ending. An unexpected ending.

Reader #8 * (1 star)
Oh my goodness. This was a terrible book. I thought it was going to be a ghost story (based on the title - duh!), but it turns out it was just an opportunity to rant about politics and "those crazy religious nuts". I didn't realize what I was getting myself into. If you are solidly on the left, you might enjoy this book. Otherwise, steer clear from this one. It was so irritating because there were times that the story encouraged me to continue reading, and then I would get hit in the face with the political rant all over again. Blech...

Reader #9 **** (4 Stars)
I went into this book expecting spooks and transparent figures that go bump in the night. Instead it's a nice book about a normal life and all the little things that go into a life. There were parts that had me not liking Dusty, but as a whole she was likable. There were a few times when spirits were involved that I cried. I like the evolution of Dusty as a person. It is a good book.

Reader #10 *** (3 Stars)
This was an interesting book...the language is not my preference and there is a lot of it...but it has a good storyline.

Reader #11 **** (4 Stars) Note: added to reviewer’s “to keep in personal library” list
Probably because I believe that our loved ones are always around us, I really liked this one. It will be one I keep in my library forever.

Reader #12 ***** (5 stars) Definitely not your average ghost story
Dusty Waters is a different take on the traditional ghost story, dealing more with the lives of people through the eyes of the person who can see them while, simultaneously, trying to grow into her own life. Definitely a good read for those wanting entertainment and some brain food to munch on.

Reader #13 ***** (5 Stars) Excellent story, I loved every page!
The sub-title "A Ghost Story" caught my attention so I bought this book. I enjoyed it so much and am recommending it to all my friends. I don't want to give away the story, but it is definitely a "ghost" story which you find out very early in the book, with numerous plots of mysterious questions...actually I just talked myself into reading it again! ENJOY!!

And so that’s them...the words of wisdom/gut reactions from thirteen readers who have loved, liked, found so-so, or disliked my little ghost story. As you can see, much of what is written here says more about the reader and how they experience books, and going a step further, there are some readers who are open minded and willing to enjoy a book without expectation, while others lose the joy of reading by having strict expectations and have no wiggle room to engage in a writer’s story if it fails to fall within their set parameters. These parameters I find very interesting, especially regarding how every reader has their expectations about what a ghost story is supposed to be...or not be. Is it a ghost story? The majority accept it as a ghost story. It is a ghost story, a ghost story told the way I wanted to write it. The ghosts aren’t the “BOO!” bump in the night kind of ghosts—that’s been done, I wanted to do something different, something better. It is a book about the life of Dusty Waters, the ghost story is the part of her life that will not be included in her biography, only the reader is becoming privy to this secret—this I believe is part of the beauty of the book, it is more than a ghost story.

Two years later, yes, the stray cat has gained a thicker skin, but that doesn't mean I still don't feel a little queasy and bummed out when I see a one star reaction with a review to match relaying all that I did wrong (I know it won't be the last one) or do a little happy dance when I get four stars set up along with a thoughtful review...I'm not yet a fat tabby, but it's been a worth while experiment. I feel good about what I've done, real good (shh, listen to the purr.)

I couldn't resist posting a pic of the little old man (who was once a stray long long time ago) he is very content sleeping on his head like that

Dusty Waters: A Ghost Story is available in paperback through Amazon.com and as an E-book at Barnes and Noble for the Nook.

From the Garden...

2011-06-22T19:47:00.000-04:00

Peony Abstraction

I've been busy editing Fishbowl and painting up a storm in preparation for an art show at Szozda Gallery, I'm reading a lot too...between the ever growing stack of 'to be read' books that I've found recently and visits to Red Lemonade for quick dips in some extraordinary new work. I'm feeling full to the brim with words...and of course, my garden takes up my spare time, the blooms are coming and going faster than I can enjoy them! I think I go through this bit of despair every year...the peony's are almost all done, and they were giant blooms, but of course, no sooner do they open, the rain comes and beats the snot out of the poor things...and once you pick one, they drop their petals by the next day...all done for another year, already.

Peony portrait

Fragment, Moth Wing

Rose

Collage of debris


Peony

Vacation...

2011-06-02T10:54:00.000-04:00

Arrangement on stone 5/22/2011

Scars, found field stone, 5/31/2011

Hosta, 5/31/2011

Lace and Spikes, leaf and burrs, 5/31/2011

Old Paint, 5/31/2011

The Red Stripe, field stone, 5/31/2011

I've been on a long vacation, one of the benefits for working at one place for over 25 years is having an accumulation of days off to use or lose by the end of the fiscal year...I always have too many left over (not that I'm complaining)...this has been the perfect time to be off, the weather has been summer-like...well, until today, it's zipped back to spring so we're dipped into the 50's and breezy, actually feels like fall...weird.

My camera has been busy with finding things, I've uploaded hundreds of photos and have yet to go through all of them so I thought I'd post what I have found so far...

The Old Grind Stone, 6/1/2011

Abstraction, Field Stone, 6/1/2011

I've been spending lots of quiet time these days, much of it writing, my editing of Drinking From the Fishbowl is coming along, I'm passing through Part III, doing more tweaking to places here and there that felt a little bit at loose ends...I'm on that self-doubt see-saw again, you see. I do know it's a good story, but there's that uncertainty that goes along with that...it's a tug o' war. It is chock full of dreams and realities, all of it tightly linked within itself, and also bound with the other two novels that I've published so far and the one's that are not yet finished...it's been a long journey writing these books of mine, and I've loved every minute of it...it has felt good these last few days, sitting on my porch, enjoying the breeze on a hot day, working on words, being immersed in that other place where I go to write, I've been having a hard time getting there this past year since I finished The Fractured Hues of White Light, I have felt quite wrung out and needed to take it easy, but every visit to Fishbowl bolsters my confidence, it's coming into its own, I'm nearly finished...I expect that I will continue working on it throughout the summer months, making sure it's right. (It's what I do.)

One year later...

2011-05-20T22:07:00.000-04:00

Now a NOOK Book!

One year ago on May 21st, I released my second novel The Fractured Hues of White Light as a paperback original, and now, to celebrate this first year, my little-big novel is now available at Barnes & Noble as an ebook.

I gotta tell ya, it's a lot of work putting together the ebook is a process that I don't want to do again right away, but yet, I'm OCD enough to get a sense of pleasure picking around at the tiniest bits of code to make the reading experience on the Nook to be enjoyable. I spent most of the morning and dipped into the afternoon doing the finishing touches on the files and inputting data and clicking the right buttons to make the "magic" happen - my eyes are blurry and burning and my head is dizzy from looking at a computer screen so closely. As of an hour or so, it went live - so now more readers can love or hate it - it is such a see-saw existence being an author, and I will always welcome the good and bad criticism with grace. It's been a rewarding experience publishing my books, and although the second one hasn't been as well received as the first book (Dusty Waters) I understand as the author and publisher, that books are a subjective business, and not everyone is going to like what I do. John Steinbeck said it best of all:

"You know just as well as I do that this book is going to catch the same kind of hell that all the others did and for the same reasons. It will not be what anyone expects and so the expecters will not like it. And until it gets to people who don't expect anything and are just willing to go along with the story, no one is likely to like this book." (from Journal of a Novel: the East of Eden Letters, quoted from page 26, March 8, Thursday.)

Good and bad reviews go with the territory. I like to think that readers come to my writing because they are looking for something different, something unexpected, and to make this novel available for the Nook will make it accessible to new readers looking for something new and different - this is a happy day...

Synopsis:

The Fractured Hues of White Light is an emotional journey that explores who we love and why we love them. Mother, father, daughter, siblings, lovers, spouses, and friends; it’s all love in some form. It is a story about Samantha Ryder, a young autistic woman who is an artist; it is because of her handicap that she often fails to articulate her emotions with an appropriate demonstration. Ironically, the ‘normal people’ who surround her are just as incapable of communicating their feelings, creating a sense of isolation full of things left unsaid. Samantha’s uncanny artistic ability is limited to being a novelty after her father encouraged her to create miniatures of the greatest hits of art history for a wealthy clientele. For years, she has filled sketchbooks with drawings that she feels mean nothing, yet they mean everything. Within the abstract scribbles are the portraits of the people who she loves; the quirk of her disability is how she is very aware of the emotions of her loved ones. They love her with unconditional bonds that vary in degrees; her mother Lenore’s maternal nurturing is sorely missed after her death when Sammy was six. Her father, Whitley, is a possessive narcissist, but his heart is always in the right place. Memories of the protective love of her father’s stepson, Guthrie, filtered into her adolescent fantasies. Her half-sister, Helena, exhibits a lackadaisical tolerance and irritable impatience, yet offers a clinging-vine possessiveness in spite of herself. The lingering romantic feelings of her friend and former lover, Sylvester, manifest in his boundless patience; their continued friendship stands firm on a foundation of trust. When Samantha agreed to marry Preston Ackerman, she initially believed that she could learn to love him, but the empty bond between them causes her to emotionally lose ground. As their marriage falls apart, Preston becomes dangerous, forcing her to go on a journey of self-preservation away from the familiar security of home. Her escape threatens to be her undoing.

I've started my 49th trip around the sun...

2011-05-15T11:56:00.000-04:00

These are a collection of stones that I found amongst the pea gravel on my patio...there's something quiet and meditative about picking through these tiny stones and finding little treasures...my house is full of this stuff...they are currently sitting on the arm of the chair outside for future photos...

My birthday was on Monday...I'm good with the aging process, I can't really complain about it...I think I was more uptight about "growing old" when I was younger. Truth of the matter, I still feel like I did when I was nine-years-old...I felt like an old soul and I was still enjoying the wonder of a sunny day and the whole being alive thing...but there was this bit inside of me that just wanted to 'get on with it', I was impatient, there was something I wanted to do, but didn't know what it was...well...somethings haven't changed. I'm at a good place, I've written a few novels and I'm making art that I adore, I'm following my bliss as I should. Overall, I'm satisfied, and I know there will be more. I've come to realize recently while walking with my dog that I'm in a transitional time, again...I've been a little bit moody, a little bit achy, tired, and impatient...that old soul is making a fuss again I suppose. The only thing to do about it is to go with it...

Last years debris and a flower of hope...

2011-04-25T19:25:00.000-04:00

Leaf Lace, 4/24/2011

Collage, 4/24/2011

Debris, 4/24/2011

Leaf Lace, fragment, 4/24/2011

Overlap, 4/24/2011

Lace, 4/24/2011

Old Lace, 4/24/2011

Stone, cracked, 4/24/2011

A little bit of hope... 4/24/2011

We're in the midst of the 6th rainiest April on record, so it just seems bleak up here on our little acre of the world, but it isn't all that bad, just damp and the rain has been much more gentle than the bluster of last weekend that pulled off a dozen shingles from our roof...(have since been replaced by my Fred during one of the few breaks in the rain!)

I know when I see the little white violets pushing through last year's debris that spring is here at last...as much as I love the colts foot, daffodils, and squill, the violets with their sweet scent take me back to times when I was very young, picking fistfuls of these for my mom in the woods behind our house, it was literally a carpet of violets out there, and the smell of them was overwhelming...I spent happy days surrounded by violets so I was very happy to find them here when we moved in...

I'm still focusing my little point n' shoot camera at the debris of leaves and bits of weeds...the pale lacy remains have been beautiful finds...

I've been slowly working my way through Part 2 of Drinking from the Fishbowl, this seems to be in better shape than Part 1, as I recall, it didn't require as much work before...and I believe Part 3 is also going to be relatively easy...which naturally makes me suspicious, so I know I'll back track backwards through the chapters, going line by line, paragraph by paragraph before too long...as I should before I publish it...I'm hoping not to overtax myself like I did while working on The Fractured Hues of White Light and Dusty Waters I've learned so many lessons with those two, this should be easier...should be. You'd think. The self-doubt demons have been nibbling at me again...challenging me...saying mean things...just when I'm convinced that the book is truly awful, I pick it up to work on it and realize there's nothing wrong with it, it's fine, it has it's voice, it has a solid story, the characters have something to say...so I will continue with my leisurely pace, picking away at it, taking my time to make it right...

April Showers...and wind...

2011-04-20T18:53:00.001-04:00

Collage #1, 4/15/2011

Collage #4, 4/15/2011

Collage #2, 4/15/2011

Collage #3, 4/15/2011

Colts foot, 4/15/2011

It's Winds-day...the sun has popped out from the clouds tonight making everything golden and green...mallard duck heads shimmer so boldly in this light...today is a sneezy day too, the pussy willow toes have gone to flower today, which sort of makes me sad that they're coming to an end so soon, yet glad that we're moving closer to warmer weather...the colts foot has pushed through the debris to poke their sunny yellow faces toward the sky...

I've had a "time"...I was hiked into the ER by my Fred on Friday night (4/15) because I had a very bad pain in my lower right side that wrapped around to my lower back, which was accompanied by sciatic nerve pain that I was already dealing with all week...yes, it was VERY bad, and it was a bit scary. It was determined that I might've had an ovarian cyst burst...tho' my sonogram was described as "unremarkable"...well, of course it would if the darn thing already burst and went on its way by the time you took a looky-loo with the wand...these things happen, but there will be follow-ups to the follow-ups and double check with this one, call that one... cover all the bases, cross 't's' dot 'i's'...enough already...no one really knows or can really explain to me what happened to cause the pain. I'm okay now, still a bit crampy there in the right side, still gimping around with sciatic nerve pain, but nothing like that night...I was released that night and tucked into my own bed by midnight, although I know it wasn't much ado about nothing because it hurt like the devil, it certainly feels like it now...it's a mystery to me what's going on under the hood...

Crouching Tigger-Hidden Pooh revisiting the barn, pondering faint memories of being very wee once, and now he is a very tubby tabby, 13 years young...

Spring debris collages...

2011-04-10T11:47:00.000-04:00

Pale Lace, 4/9/2011

Layers, 4/9/2011

Grace #2, 4/9/2011

Grace #1, 4/9/2011

Collage, 4/10/2011

Dried Grass, 4/9/2011

Feather and Burdock, 4/9/2011

Overlap, Pale Leaves, 4/9/2011

I'm still focusing my camera's lens on the leftover debris on the ground, I can't help it...but this is what sings for me at the moment...

It was a busy week...we were on TV Monday to promote the CNY Art Showcase...it was awesome and awful at the same time, hard to explain, but one becomes grateful for having grace under fire. It was what I expected and yet not, but overall it was a good experience. The auction itself went off on Friday, and again, another good experience, we met more local artists (some new to the fundraiser), and it was nice to see people excited about the art, and it's nice to see it all together in one room...and it pleased me to see my drawing, Lumina #2 go to a young woman who seemed very pleased with her acquisition...it was sweet, her smile was priceless. I didn't get to meet the person who acquired my photo of the rose, I thought I saw it go out the door under the arm of a gentleman buyer...

I'm glad we've gotten past this busy time and I'm looking forward to some down time, I need to get back to a rhythm of life that encourages creativity...with the warmer weather coming in, I'll spend time sitting in my favorite porch sitting chair with my manuscript of Fishbowl, read, edit, rewrite, and get it ready to publish...and of course, working in my garden is the place where I do much of my creative thinking, and maybe, just maybe, I can work on something new...

April at last...

2011-04-03T09:14:00.000-04:00

Abstraction, 4/2/2011

Early April, collage, 4/2/2011

Pale Leaf, 4/2/2011

Leaf on Stone, 4/2/2011

Overlapping Debris, 4/2/2011

Chives, old and new, 4/2/2011

It's still cold, and we still have some stubborn snow on the ground in those shady areas of the acre. The pussy willow toes have been out testing the chill air...good thing they're fuzzy, right? They're still tiny and tight on their twiggy limbs. I'm still photographing the flattened debris...there are some little spikes of green life poking through, the chives, tulips, daffodils, crocus, iris and tiger lilies...but nothing blooming up here yet, things down below us in the city are well ahead of us up here on the hilltop...that's fine, we get spring a little longer, my lilacs will still be blooming when everyone else's have turned brown.The sun is shining, and I'm feeling better today than I have the whole week, another FMS flare-up has complicated my week, but I just go with it as best as I can (tho' on Friday I could barely stand being in my own skin.) Whatever, right? I just keep going forward...

I'm working on Fishbowl again, reading through Part I, tightening up things here and there, last time through I was taking out parts that were bugging me, reworking them, putting them back, and now I'm working out any ragged edges that were left behind. I found one in chapter 11 yesterday afternoon, I nearly pitched the whole chapter out of frustration, but after some thought, I didn't...I'll need to think it through a little more...problem solving, it's what I do, and I know that what I make of it will be just right...it feels good to be writing.

Tomorrow morning, my Fred and I are going to be on television (WSYR Ch 9, "Bridge Street" 10-11AM) promoting the CNY Art Showcase, the auction is on Friday...it should be fun.

Elemental...

2011-03-26T10:07:00.001-04:00

Butters at 18 weeks...he's mesmerized by a fly so he was standing still...very still...

The bitty little kitty is growing up, not so bitty any more, he's so handsome and sweet! He's running around being silly this morning, and was playing in the trash bucket under my desk just a bit ago (I did take pictures and a video, we'll have to see how those turned out!)

I just love this little blue stone...the leaf got there on its own...

I don't have an oak tree anywhere on the acre, but a leaf dropped in...blew in actually...

Yup, I'm still photographing the dried weeds and grass on the stones...been lovin' that...

The fog on Thursday morning was beautiful...

Yes, we have snow...it came Wednesday night, it's still here and will linger up here in the higher elevations until it warms up again, down lower about a half mile away there's green...we're just special, I guess...this is typical for us, no shock, no surprise, we've had snow storms on Mother's Day, flurries in the air right up until May 20th...it's not "safe" until Memorial Day to plant anything delicate...it's just been a long winter...

I felt bad for this poor little robin with his fluffed out feathers...he didn't much like me lookin' at him either...

The fog in the trees...

My old friend Maple Tree, touched with fog and morning light...

It's been a busy week, I spent too much time on my feet on Monday-Wednesday and have paid for it in spades, I had the dreaded sciatic nerve pain and it kept me in bed most of Thursday (of course, it didn't stop me from walking the dog, but the poor dude needed to pee and poo, so I brought the camera along like I always do!) Wretched pain...I slathered on Voltaren, used my electro-stim TENS unit, and stayed off my feet as much as possible. And of course, it triggered FMS pain too, so...when it rains it pours. Although I'm much better, My legs are still tingly and on the edge of "one false move", which is an on pins n' needles existence, so I'm going to continue to take it easy this weekend and hope that everything will calm down...

Our book is finally finished, printed, and beautiful!

Our little art book arrived in the mail on Tuesday afternoon, we were pleasantly surprised how gorgeous it is...we had to make a few adjustments to some things, but still it's lovely...I'm sure there will be other small things we'll decide to tweak over the course of time, but for the most part, the book is DONE and we brought it with us to last night's reception at Moonlighting to show it to our guests, and everyone thought it was mighty nice...it's a fine achievement to put together such a project, it was a bit overwhelming at times, but yet, not...hard work and many years in the making!

Here he is, in the trash bucket having a good time being a kitten...gotta love the little squeezin's!

First day of spring...

2011-03-20T19:42:00.001-04:00

Bone of the Earth broken by the winter elements, 3/19/2011

A Woolly Bear, 3/19/2011 (unusually marked, hardly any black on his rear end!)

Crow Feather, 3/19/2011

An old fossil, 3/19/2011

Dried grass and weeds on the stone wall, 3/19/2011

Rust, 3/19/2011

Leaves weeds and stone, 3/19/2011

Butters sunning himself on the first day of spring

It's hard to photograph this little clown...he rarely sits still (unless sleeping)...it is also hard to type captions when the little wiggle-worm is in my lap!

...and he loves to kiss the camera

A lovely weekend with sunshine, a giant moon in the night sky, resting, painting, writing a little, wandering around the acre photographing the mess winter made of things, but finding beauty in the flattened out grasses and leaves, rotten wood and rusty bits...all very enjoyable...

March debris collages...

2011-03-13T10:55:00.000-04:00

Inside (bark), 3/11/2011

Debris Collage, 3/11/2011

Husk (wild cucumber), 3/11/2011

Emerging from snow, 3/11/2011

Stone and Grass, 3/11/2011

Collage, 3/11/2011

Rotten (wood), 3/11/2011

Collage, 3/11/2011

I went out for about a half hour walking the acre yesterday with my little point n' shoot, and found tons of things emerging from the melting snow to photograph! Over 100 images later, I sat processing the good ones, deleting the blurry ones, and muttering "Oooo, that's cool, oooo, pretty! (Euuu, that one has bunny poo.)" A very productive bit of tromping around. It's snowing again this morning, but just a dusting, I'm going to wander over to the flooded places in the low places to look for ice formations...the acre has been busy with migrating birds arriving, the blackbirds are very noisy! It feels good hearing them...spring is coming!

My Fred and I should be wrapping up the last go through of our art book, I've made some minor changes, and there's one photo of a small painting that I want to replace...very exciting putting together our own art book...

Other news, we're participating in the CNY Art Showcase auction on April 8th, 2011, which is an annual fundraiser put together by the Rotary Club of Eastwood to raise money for various organizations, this year their focus is Saint Joseph's Hospital...the catalog arrived on Friday and my little photo that I'm donating this year is featured on the front cover! I selected the photo and a drawing for the fundraiser.

My Conversation with Georgia, 2010

Lumina #2, 2008

And...my Fred and I have been asked to be featured artists on a local television show "Bridge Street", the week of the auction...we'll see how that goes...I'll post a link once it's done. (Fun stuff!)

March is roaring in like a lion...

2011-03-06T10:54:00.000-05:00

Emerging from Winter Snow, 3/5/2011

Debris, 3/5/2011

Dried grass on stone, 3/5/2011

Ground Collage, leaves, 3/5/2011

Ground Collage, debris, 3/5/2011

Leaf Lace, 3/5/2011

A March Collage, debris from last Autumn, 3/5/2011

I always forget (conveniently) how windy the month of March can be...ugh! We've had another round of melting, so our 'glacier' has receded up the driveway a little more, and there's quite a bit of water sitting in the low areas of the acre and around about...the sump-pump is working over time to keep the basement dry...rain turned into sleet, sleet turned into snow, and we have a bit of fog too, so it's a typical day for the time of year... I guess it's being recorded as one of the snowiest winters with 64 days of steady snow and deep bone chilling cold...I know I'm tired of it, and will be glad when it's done. The red wing blackbirds have come back to my feeder and I spied a chipmunk yesterday, and the tips of daffodils are poking out of the ground this morning from a spot that was still under snow yesterday, so spring is coming...we mustn't lose heart. I did get outside with my little point and shoot camera yesterday before it turned miserable, and photographed the snow-flattened debris uncovered by this latest melt...collages of leaves and grass...wabi-sabi stuff...

Storms, storms, storms...

2011-02-20T10:46:00.000-05:00

A black and white study

The weather had been nutty, near zero and snow for weeks, then zooming up into the mid 50's with rain, and then down to the teens and single digits with more snow. Yesterday was crazy bad, blowing and drifting snow, whiteouts, travel was not recommended, but we had a funeral for my Fred's uncle to go to, so we braved the storm and managed to get there and back again all right (it probably helped that most sensible people stayed at home, so the traffic wasn't bad)...and then our exhaust system decided to crap out so we roared along so loud that if no one could see us, they certainly could hear us coming! Ugh, this winter has been brutal (aren't they all?) At least the melt got rid of the ice dams on the roof and the widow makers hanging off the eaves (or dummy-makers per our son's definition), and our driveway glacier receded a little bit... There's sunshine peeking through the gray, and light flurries floating and twirling past the windows...our acre littered with bits of branches, twigs, and pine needles...

I've also been dealing with yet another Fibromyalgia flare-up that has knocked me for a loop...on Wednesday I stayed in bed all day, dizzy, nauseous, and feeling like I was being crushed in a trash compactor...not a good day to try to be upright, so I slept through most of that day, it's not worth being awake for that shit...I bounced back the next day, but I have tread very carefully on a fine line that can tip back into feeling awful if I make one false move...

The busy news is...my Fred and I are collaborating on our latest publishing endeavor, and it's taking up much of our free time to make it happen...no, not another novel (Fishbowl is ongoing, part 1 is nearly done, I'm taking my sweet old time going through it.) Nope, not my poe-emz either. We're putting together a visual feast of 100 paintings (50 each)...the project has involved lots of new scanning, retaking photographs, placing images on the pages in such a way that compares and contrasts our paintings side-by-side, we've been editing checklist information, and writing personal comments about each piece...it's a HUGE undertaking, but something we've wanted to do since we started Field Stone Press...so finally, we're making it happen...it's going to be a beauty when it's done...

Another study...what is it? It's our little solar lights in the garden shining on the snow.

A busy time...

2011-01-29T15:04:00.002-05:00

Fooling around with snow, light and shadows

my old friend Maple Tree

Snow ripples.

More snow

Tree tops of the acre...and a moody January sky...

The digital sketchbook is full of winter shots, and I'm playing around with black and white which just seems to be the idea pallet choice for this time of year. We're deep into winter, and seeing the light returning one minute at a time...some days a little more than that...it's snowing again, lightly...we missed the big storm (for once), but I have to feel sorry for the poor souls in communities less able to deal with the snow, we get tired of it, but we make do...4 wheel drive is helpful, but it doesn't stop you from losing it on ice...drive carefully and get where you gotta go in one piece...

Lots has happened...last week, our son turned 25 last Saturday, I cooked his favorite spaghetti and meatballs for dinner...he's reached the milestone of no longer being our dependent, so no more tax write off...overall, we've raised a good kid who's grown into a mature young man, who still has a lot to learn...Where did the time go, right? Looking at the calendar today, I realized this is the day he finally came home from the hospital all those years ago (he was a month premature, so there were complications to be monitored.) It was hard for me to leave the hospital without my baby, and to go to the hospital every day to be with him, feed him, and recover (me), he was such a wee thing, about the size of a loaf of bread, the weight of a roasting chicken...I remember my brother telling me that our mother handed him a chicken at the grocery store the day her grandson was born and said "This is how much he weighs" (5 lbs 4oz).I just remember being so dang poor, working poor, we both had jobs, but barely got by, always a paycheck away from financial disaster. So my baby is all grown up...not yet on his own, but getting there...it's hard for the young people to get on with it these days, such a tenuous time...bottom line, I want him to be happy in life.

Last Sunday morning, I got a call from my sister that our mother had a stroke (she's 79, will be 80 in May). Thankfully, long story short, she's recovering quickly...the scary part was that it had affected her vision (she's a folk artist/painter so imagine the fright for a visual person to suddenly loose the one sense they rely on!) Within two days her vision returned to near normal, and she started painting on Thursday...WHEW! Call it a warning shot across her bow, I suppose...time to take it easy, slow down, take care... she's going to be fine. If anything, Mom is a force of nature... (aren't all moms?) Although she's physically tired, she's doing fine considering what she's been through.

In the midst of this, my Fred and I were preparing for our next art exhibition at Moonlighting Gallery that opened last night, it's always a treat to meet and greet, talk to people about what I do creatively, painting, photography, and writing books...the positive energy of the night, the enthusiasm in the steady roar of voices filling the space, and the well-being of all made it a good night.

Oh, yes...2 weeks later, the wee kitten, Butters, is adjusting, doing what kittens do, only he's Mr. Mellow Yellow, not quite the curtain climber nut-job some kittens can be...not saying he doesn't have his moments of kitten crazies...he's fitting in, and he's happy. For him, life is good.

I'm glad it's Saturday, I'm tired, I need a break...I need to recharge...it's a juggling act to do all that I do and manage a body that rebels on a daily basis with chronic fatigue, pains in strange places...sometimes it's all I can do to stay upright and go forward, but I do it...

Looking down at my size 6 1/2's yesterday afternoon, telling myself, "Come on, you can do it..."

A long weekend...

2011-01-17T10:32:00.001-05:00

Shadows, Concrete, Vines and Weeds, 12/30/2010

Ice, 12/30/2010

The Shed Door, 12/30/2010

Crow Tracks, 12/30/2010

Black Dog with Face in Snow, 12/30/2010

It's been a long weekend...but good! I've been spending it quietly, resting mostly because of my latest lingering flareup refuses to settle down, I've been writing a little, tinkering with photos, and have been mesmerized by the bitty kitty we adopted on Friday afternoon...our son called me at work at about 2PM "Mom..." (I knew by the tone this was going to be a special conversation) "...someone found a kitten keeping warm on a car engine, is it okay if..." (Okay? Of course it's okay! I've been looking for a kitten and knew one would come our way...they always do...and so, this little scrawny baby, probably about 8-10 weeks old, very hungry and cold, but so far healthy and super sweet has come to live with us...I think I've spent more time just looking at this little cat, marveling over his littleness, cuteness, a bitty life just starting out, a whole story unknown prior to our meeting, questions of how did he come to be in a parking lot on campus, keeping warm on a car engine, and why in the world is he outside in this cruel cold weather? Who knows. So I hold him in my lap, study his beautiful fur pattern...meditating on a name, post it notes stuck to the dining room table as possible names come to mind...Marbles, Marley (as in Bob Marley), Dewey, Louie, Tommy Ginger, Carrot Tail, Wally Walnut, Stinker (he does have deadly gas, typical for a weanling on new food), Peanut, Nutmeg, Marmalade...and then Butters...Walter I tossed in last, but not all of us agree on that, Butters seems to stick, and he responds to it...must be the right intonation that he likes about it...he's in my lap now and wants to "help"...passing out kitty kisses and purring his heart out...

Butters in the baby basket, 1/16/2011

So far, so good...not too much hissing, just the occasional bottle-brush tail...Charlie is jealous (he's been "the baby" for 7 years, so this is natural.) Tiggy-Pooh isn't too thrilled either, but Willy Big and Fatty Woo are accepting. Max has yet to gain the little ones seal of approval...the poor dog, he's excited about having a new bitty (his ears are so perked they just about pop off his head), but the bitty is not excited about him (yet) these things take time (Butters hisses at him, Max becomes sad, everything droops and he walks away, tail down, ears down...so I go love him up.) Most of the time he's baby quiet, sleeping a lot, and he explores, running low to the ground...hiding under chairs and tables (the way his mommy taught him)...I've kitten proofed the places that would be bad...he's gathering dust balls...I think he's going to be a semi-fluffy cat, ruffled...

Warm by the fire, 1/17/2011

Little guy in the middle of two big guys! (The Warmest Place in the House!)

We're glad to have taken him in...it just hurts my heart thinking this little guy wouldn't have survived this long weekend if someone hadn't noticed him climbing up inside that car...

Turn it up to eleven...

2011-01-09T22:44:00.000-05:00

Exposed Roots, 1/1/2011

Three Trees, 1/1/2011

Abstraction, light and shadows, 1/8/2011

A tree branch in snow, 1/8/2011

A mouse imprint in snow, 1/8/2011

Abstraction, light and shadows, 1/8/2011

Leaves in snow, 1/1/2011

Abstraction, Shadows and Light, 1/9/2011

Lichen, 1/1/2011

One, one, one, one
One, one, eleven...
Happy 2011...twenty eleven...
I keep hearing this phrase whenever I write the new date..."Turn it up to eleven..."
Wait, did I just hear Spinal Tap? I do believe I just did...

Here they are...the classic lines from This is Spinal Tap (regarding the number eleven...)

Nigel Tufnel: The numbers all go to eleven. Look, right across the board, eleven, eleven, eleven and...
Marty DiBergi: Oh, I see. And most amps go up to ten?
Nigel Tufnel: Exactly.
Marty DiBergi: Does that mean it's louder? Is it any louder?
Nigel Tufnel: Well, it's one louder, isn't it? It's not ten. You see, most blokes, you know, will be playing at ten. You're on ten here, all the way up, all the way up, all the way up, you're on ten on your guitar. Where can you go from there? Where?
Marty DiBergi: I don't know.
Nigel Tufnel: Nowhere. Exactly. What we do is, if we need that extra push over the cliff, you know what we do?
Marty DiBergi: Put it up to eleven.
Nigel Tufnel: Eleven. Exactly. One louder.
Marty DiBergi: Why don't you just make ten louder and make ten be the top number and make that a little louder?
Nigel Tufnel: [pause] These go to eleven.

...

And so, for 2011...turn it up to eleven!

A black dog in white snow, 1/9/2011

That's eleven photos for this post.

New Year's Eve

2010-12-31T16:12:00.004-05:00


Winter, through the window, 2010

I thought I'd post some of my most favorite photographs from this year today.

A Memento, 2010

Horses once lived here, 2010

Hope, 2010

Another year has gone by, and a new one is on deck. I treat every year as an "open-ended hope". I do the best I can to accomplish my goals, I work at my own pace with patient persistence, and do what I do in spite of everything that could cause me to give up.

Independently published 2010 by Field Stone Press

Looking back, I see my happiest achievement, I independently published my second novel, The Fractured Hues of White Light, although it doesn't seem to be as well received as Dusty Waters was in 2009, I still feel it is one of my best efforts. It was a difficult book to write, I don't know if I have words to explain what I went through since the book first took form to the day the first paperback copy came into my hands, but it was much like a birth, a very difficult birth...the self-doubts are the worst. And I put together an e-book file for Dusty Waters to become available for the B&N NOOK. There's one in the works for The Fractured Hues of White Light, but I'm not ready to release it yet. In time I will. And I'm busy with the third novel, Drinking from the Fishbowl, which I hope to have ready by mid to late fall 2011, if I get it ready sooner, that's cool, but I'm going to take my time...no rush. I am pleased that the books are selling, one at a time, I'm not making much money with it, but I'm patient, this has been an experiment to see how I do out there, and I can't be happier about it...my books are being read! That's important.

Me n' my Fred at the Gallery making art together on a Thursday night

My second happiest achievement this year has to be our little co-op art gallery, Moonlighting. I am always a firm believer that from little things, big things grow, this is only the beginning, we're doing a good thing.The resulting artwork has been encouraging, and although I haven't sold much this year, just having a place to gather with other artists, create art, display our work on a consistent basis, hold openings, and treat the community to a nice space filled with beautiful artwork is special. It's another experiment in DIY!

Suddenly, Last Summer, 2010

A lot has happened, and there's no way I can recap everything said and done, between my blogs and my journal there are plenty of entries of everyday things. I have been hanging in there in spite of the fiendish symptoms of FMS, and continue to adjust to the phases that I go through and alter the "me management" to get through the day. My mantra is "I'm upright and going forward." I'm grateful that I have stayed away from the pharmaceutical band-aids and that I can still keep going to my day job, as I know so many with this illness lose so much because of it. I'm thankful that I have many who support me in my day to day life, tho' because I'm stubborn, I tend to do for myself, but I do have the sense to ask for help when I need it. I'm hanging in there, staying positive, and remembering to breathe deeply when the pain gets to be too much.

Full Moon, June 5, 2010

I'm trying to pick a favorite painting that I made this year, I'm happy with so many of them, I had to scale back to picking one that I'm glad did not sell...it's hanging on my studio wall where I can see it every day. I remember how I went at this painting with a 'fuck it' attitude, it had such a bad start and I was getting frustrated with it, so I just started to make marks in random places...I was in my "zone", and was very happy while I worked...I truly painted this one for myself. (I posted the favorites at my other blog Follow Your Bliss http://ohdrat.blogspot.com/)


Hands down, my favorite book this year has to be A Writer's Diary

I read a whole bunch of cool books this year...thought I'd share a few here:

The Journal of Joyce Carol Oates 1973-1982
Isak Dinesen, Out of Africa
Joyce Carol Oates, Little Bird of Heaven (a signed copy!)
Ondaatje, Divisadero
Poppy Adams, The Sister
Virginia Woolf, A Writer’s Diary
Audrey Niffenegger, Her Fearful Symmetry
Sherwood Anderson, Winesburg, Ohio
E. M. Forster, The Celestial Omnibus
Nichole Krauss, The History of Love
Janet Frame, Towards Another Summer
Rikki Ducornet, The Stain
Angela Carter, Magic Toy Shop
Joyce Carol Oates, A Bloodsmoor Romance
Iris Murdock, The Sea, the Sea

Books of Poetry that I’ve carried around in my purse this year:

If Not, Winter, poems of Sappho (ed. Anne Carson)
Kay Ryan, Flamingo Watching
Catherine Daly, Da Da Da (I’m still carrying this one around)

Favorite books that I opened to read random passages from:

Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

Virginia Woolf, The Waves
John Cowper Powys, Porius
Virginia Woolf, Night and Day
Joyce Carol Oates, Bellefleur
Joyce Carol Oates, Wonderland
E.M. Forster, Howards End
Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

Books started in 2010 to finish in 2011:
Virginia Woolf, The Years

Charles Dickens, Tale of Two Cities
Isak Dinesen, The Gothic Tales
David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest (e-book, reading on my laptop using the NOOK app)

Sunburst, 2010

A full year and a full life. I am content.

Sunflower, August 14, 2010

Christmas Eve 2010

2010-12-24T23:47:00.000-05:00

My tree is an 8ft tall concolor fir... full of white lights...

We've had freezing drizzle on top of our snow, and then snow on top of the freezing drizzle with temps dipping into the teens, so the trees, bushes, and weeds are covered in spiky hoar frost.

Frosted trees

Frost and Mist

Behind the barn...

The red maple at night.

Porch light...

Merry Christmas!

Winter Solstice time...

2010-12-19T10:57:00.001-05:00

Crow tracks

Crow in Snow

A snowy crow

The old maple tree in winter

It's a funny time of year, moody and emotional, sentimental, the darkness, the blowing snow, the persistent gray, the slant of the sun when it is out, the shadows are different now...its' the first we've seen a great deal of sunshine in a couple of weeks, so we're all bleary-eyed and squinting in the daylight...I feel like a mole on these rare sunny days...oh, but it's pretty out there this morning...8 degrees this morning, a paw lifter for Max...all that clear sky with moonshine and starlight last night made the temps drop, but with the sun out, it's quite pleasant, not so bitter, a relief from the cabin fever, which has come early this year because of the storms...normally that doesn't set in until later in January or early February.

I was out and about with my son doing the final shop...I never was a fan of shop 'til you drop, and I dislike the crowds, so we set out early with the goal to be off Erie Blvd by noon...last stop B&N...that place was delightfully packed! I didn't see any indication that the book in the form of paper is on life support, people were clutching plenty of them in their hands in the long line at the front registers...but there were the curiosity seekers lingering around the NOOK display...and I was one of them, listening to the inquiries, the "ooo's" and "ahhh's", the "oh, really? Well, that's neat." One fellow did ask if I needed any help or had any questions, and I just told him I thought it was an interesting little thing. But he lost interest in me quick because there was another customer with potential to buy (there was quite a swarm, and I had no problem with being left alone to play). He did come back to check on me, but I only smiled and said, "I think my son or my husband might buy me one." (I don't have it on my wish list at all.) Although I do have my little ghost story published for the Nook, I only have the Nook app on my laptop, so I haven't seen it on the actual device, seeing the gadget in person and seeing that it's so bitty is a fun feeling. So, naturally, I played with it! My son and I huddled around it. It didn't take long to figure it out, tho' my fingers are being a bit funky lately with tingly-numbness, I'm not so nibble anymore. I found my way through Google to my blog, clicked the icon that I have set up for the Nook store, and once I saw my little book cover, after that, I walked away. Someone stepped up and started looking at the device right away, I don't know if she was looking at my book, or if she explored something else, but it was a guilty pleasure... because of my lingering over the Nook, we didn't leave Erie Blvd until 12:17, but that was fine. I needed to satisfy that little craving.

I nearly adopted a cat yesterday during our travels... a 2 year old tabby, Wandering Paws had their Saturday adoption hopefuls set up at PETCO, the little sweetie named Emmi started chirping to us and was very engaging, she could've passed for Charlie's sister, a big girl too (big like Charlie).

Yes, this is Charlie...Mr. Mischief Mittens himself.

Well, I left that store with all the treats and goodies for my cats and Max feeling so sad and choked up that I couldn't justify opening our home to one more...it was all I could do not to tell my son, "Turn around, we're going back!" Self-control for sure...at this point I'm not sure if I want to deal with the hissing and bushy tails. So we hugged them all when we got home, and told them they are so lucky to have a home when there are so many who do not. All of ours were stray once, drop-offs, or the offspring of feral barn cats...they look at us with those cat eyes with no memory of the time before this moment. Happy purrs all around!

The Three Wise Cats having a snuggle-fest, flannel blankets, Max's toys for pillows, and warm sunshine, the best!

Always looking...

2010-12-12T14:35:00.001-05:00


Hollyhock stalk with seed buds, 12/11/2010

Snowdrift, 12/11/2010

I'm a bit sick of the snow...it's blowing and raining today, tomorrow there will be more snow after this current mess passes by and triggers more lake effect snow, pretty much the same weather set up as last week (oh, joy.)

My yard has been invaded by a flock of starlings wearing their winter speckles, I love hearing their chatter!

My dog is dreaming, and barking in his sleep.

Thought I'd throw in some pictures I took last week of an old door...

I'm a sucker for old weather beaten wood...I love the shapes, the colors, and textures of this door...and it's got the character scratches left behind by an eager dog begging to go out or just glad to see you coming home, sort of like a written history of someone coming home. I'm always looking for inspiration somewhere...

I've been slightly under the weather...maybe weather related, maybe just worn out, but I'm plugging along, the snow is melting, and winding up in my basement, the sump-pumps are in action taking care of that mess...it's warm enough for lady bugs to come out.

I've written a raw bit for my latest manuscript, Layers of Illusion...my main character, Eleanor spoke up last night and started a rant about television, so I had to listen to her and write it down...so here it is, warts n' all...

*

The television makes me uneasy—everything about the little innocuous box makes me feel un-easy. Too much focus on fear in the news—the world is being overrun by terrorists in turbans (but it seems we have enough of our home-grown variety to worry about), in politics, the Republicans are the Party of Boo! The old fear mongers are constantly being grim-faced negative about everything under the sun that might possibly be good for the people, the bastards. You gotta love how manufactured anger has permeated our society; human disasters implode in our faces every day. Natural disasters seem to be everywhere (they used to be a rare thing when I was a kid), good grief, I never heard of a tsunami until Indonesia got slammed, and now it seems there are tsunami’s (or the potential of one) all the time—what the hell, right? What irritates me even more—every Made for TV Movie is exploiting someone’s unfortunate tragedy for the entertainment of us! Someone is always in trouble, chronically; someone always getting hurt, badly; someone always getting ripped off, incessantly; someone always getting killed, senselessly. Anything brought forth that is positive is so over the top saccharine I could cry my eyeballs out. Yes—I cry at the drop of a hat these days—especially around the holidays, even the commercials are on the tear-jerker setting at full blast. Initially, I was blaming it on hormones, but now, no, I’ve come to realize that I've been marketed to distraction by a media that is bludgeoning my emotions every time I turn on the television. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I unplugged the fucking thing, hauled it into the hallway outside my apartment with the hope that someone will take it. From that moment on I vowed that I will rely on NPR to give me the news reports with their kind, level-headed voices that drone at a volume that is set to relax—sure the world is going to hell in a hand basket, but wait, there is still hope for something better. Hope, I need a good dose of that for my frazzled nerves, I could listen to that shit forever—sure beats the hopeless drumbeat on television. Sometimes I don’t get out of my car right away when I get home at night, I want to finish listening to the story they’re talking about, and then the next one, and then the next. No matter how bad the news is, there is a gentle hum of hope. At least I don't feel like banging my head against the wall or becoming a ranting lunatic toting a gun for a no good reason.

No one took the stupid television until I dragged it out to the common area by the elevators and taped a sign on it FREE! It sat there for a couple of days before it finally disappeared. I don't miss it, not one bit.

*

Eleanor Dean is still developing...growing. Her circumstances keep evolving in that mysterious way of writing a book, the road map is a twisty route from beginning to end, lots of stuff in the middle, some of it will stay, some of it will go the way of things...who knows if this latest piece will make it. She's a woman teetering on the edge, stuck on survive, suffering from one thing after another, being ground down by a cascading sequence of catastrophes, chucking out her television is a sign that she's trying to get a handle on her life. I'm letting the ideas simmer quietly, this has been going on for about 9-10 years, I have gathered at least 200 pages of bits and pieces like this (if not more), one day, I will print it all out, get my scissors and tape, and start piecing it together to create the whole. Goodness knows if it will actually become a book...I do have my doubts about it...but that's part of the process, and I'm okay with it.

Time.

More Snow...

2010-12-08T19:54:00.000-05:00


Sunset Snow, 12/8/2010

I'm embracing this wintry weather through my camera (which I do every year)...and as Grandma Moses put it "everyone knows that snow sparkles with the sunshine on it"...and at sunset it picks up such pretty colors! (shot with my old camera) The snow weary CNY Upstate area saw the sun for the first time in several days, but more snow on the way tonight! They say some places might receive an inch or more an hour in the more intense bands of lake effect snow showers...great...lake. (Thanks!) Just out there with the dog a few minutes ago...the stars are out and it's bitter burrrrr cold! Looking at the radar on the NOAA website, the snow is north of the NYS Thruway above Syracuse...but we're all prepared for it to show up anywhere at anytime, it's random like that...keeps life interesting!

Our chairs on the patio...two days ago...they're nearly gone now, the snow has drifted around them. (I love the old-time feel of this image!) I took the photo through my dining room window at twilight Monday night using my new camera.

Lake Effect

2010-12-05T16:36:00.000-05:00

Bare Trees

The Crow in Snowy Weather

Grass in snow

Twigs in snow

Tangle Weeds

Tangle Weeds #2

Three Leaves

The Thin Leaf

Weeds n' Snow by the shed

Snow Dog

It's been snowing steady all weekend...bands of lake effect drifting down from Lake Ontario, our typical weather for this time of year...it's enough to make chipmunks go underground...but my dog, Max, turns into a snow bunny! I bundle up and walk with my cameras at the ready (yes, plural!) I started to become a wee bit uneasy when the lens on my little point n' shoot started to make funny noises when I start it up, and I even thought maybe it wasn't taking very good pictures anymore, so I bought the upgraded version of what I have (a Fuji Finepix 9MP to a 12MP), they're just little point n' shoot cameras, they're nothing fancy, I fear anything fancier would probably drive me nuts with too much and such, I learned on manual cameras with light meters and all the extra lenses and gear...I just want simple at this point, what I'm doing now is just a digital sketchbook, and I'm rather pleased with what I've accomplished thus far. Someday I'll buy the big SLR, gotta save my pennies. This selection of pictures came from both cameras...I'm pleased that both cameras performed well, the elder one did better in some cases because I'm more used to how it works...the little new one is going to take some getting used to, I thought it did a good job snagging a shot of the crow in the tree from the dining room window.

There goes the snowplow.

I wrote an essay about Grandma Moses for the newsletter at work, it was fun writing it, short n' sweet, and I finished it in 24 hours. (Not everything I write takes 11 years.)

I've been tinkering around with my manuscript (Drinking from the Fishbowl) on and off all weekend, I'm back tracking through chapters 1-5, having to hit the reset button to get back on track...minor changes, and good ones, I'm quite pleased with it.

I mailed off copies of The Fractured Hues of White Light to my two giveaway winners (at Goodreads) and I'm looking forward to hearing from both of them once they've finished. It's hard to tell with this one how readers are going to react, some like it, some don't. I'm fine with it.

The kitties are getting restless, Willy Big just came charging out of the den, pads skating around on the wood floor, Tiggy-Pooh is yodeling...must be getting near time to eat. There's a dog with his ears turned on...I think he wants to go O-U-T...I better suit up and do that...

The day after Thanksgiving...

2010-11-26T19:26:00.000-05:00

Blue on Rust, Leaves (Sumac on Maple)

Briar and Weeds

Fossils and Weeds

A Solitary Leaf

Shell and Leaf

Pale Green Viola Leaf

Viola Leaf on a Rock

Leaves

Thankfulness...

I got up at 6AM yesterday morning, and had the nigh 20lb bird stuffed and in the oven by 7AM, the routine is a familiar path, I plodded along all through the morning making preparations, then got halfway upstairs to change, and ran back to the living room to turn on the Macy's Parade just in time to see Santa Claus...(it wouldn't be right to miss Santa!) Although we had a fraction of the family around the table than in past years, yet still keeping to the tradition as we've known it...my Fred's mother passed away almost two weeks ago, and so it's been a time...as our niece insisted, "Grandma would have wanted us to be together today." And so we did gather around as a family to begin the process of moving on, and we enjoyed our company and talked. It was lovely in spite of moments of missing her...and missing Grandpa (our second Thanksgiving without him.) We're still in that emotional period of loss, slightly numb, yet sharp in feeling...we're seeking a foothold on the latest version of "normal". Time will tell. Today I'm in that fatigue zone...painfully tired, which is typical FMS, I'm used to it, and push through it (how easy it would have been to go back to bed and sleep the day away!), but in spite of it, I worked on my paintings today, for some reason, on days when I'm this tired writing is impossible, but the act of painting flourishes in that intuitive flow that is beautiful, and it felt right. If anything, I am thankful for my determination.

Leftovers for dinner tonight...mmmmm...and tomorrow TURKEY SOUP! (I love that more than the dinner.)

I haven't been able to keep up with the last three Literary Blog Hop activities through the Blue Bookcase, but have enjoyed the conversations that have emerged since the first one I hooked up with earlier this month. As I noted in the side bar of my blog, Dusty Waters is now available as an e-book on the B&N Nook (as part of the B&N PubIt! program, released on 11/19.) It took well over a month to accomplish it, I had slowly worked my way through both books to get them properly formatted, but only put up the one. The Fractured Hues of White Light will be saved aside for release at another time since I'm still in the early giveaway mode of the paperback at Goodreads. I downloaded the Nook app for my laptop so I could sample the technology, and purchased Virginia Woolf's early novel Night and Day just for fun (since my most favorite paper back is falling apart) ...it is a temptation to buy more books, but I will restrain myself for now, and make selections of old favorites in due time. No matter the convenience of the e-book and all the other arguments that make them the bees knees I still love the intimacy of a solitary book made of paper, and will gladly make room for more of them on my to-read pile. Will I purchase an actual Nook? Probably...I've become slightly smitten with the gadget during my careful investigation of gadgets. Will I convert one (or both) of the books for Kindle? Eventually, it is quite possible with all the available conversion tools out there to 'make it so'...I'm in no rush (if there's anyone who wants it bad enough for their Kindle they can send me an email and say "pretty please" and I'll see what I can do about it sooner than later.) For now, the Nook is the test...it is one more test in my indie publishing experiment, I'm going to see how it goes as I continue to muddle along at my own pace. It is just how I am...it is how I do what I do.

What is Literary Fiction? And a reading from my book, The Fractured Hues of White Light...

2010-11-09T10:06:00.000-05:00

This is how I see it from my size 6 1/2's...(yes, I know, they're untied...)

What is literary fiction...what is "literary" about literary fiction? (This Literary Blog Hop has gotten under my skin.) My tongue in cheek response is "Well, it's got everything and the kitchen sink in it fiction..." Indeed. Pull on the waders, honey, we're going in...it gets mighty deep in the pond of 'literary' fiction, so we are going to go fishing.

Listen, I know this literary stuff isn't for everybody, which is unfortunate, I feel they're missing something beautiful. Not everybody has the attention span nor the patience to read classics like (a few from my bookshelf) Moby Dick, War and Peace, Bleak House, To Kill a Mockingbird, East of Eden, Ulysses, The Idiot, To the Lighthouse, The Waves, The Corrections, Water for Elephants, Small Island, The English Patient, I Know This Much Is True, Dandelion Wine, Watership Down, Winesburg Ohio, Wonderland, Pride and Prejudice, Out of Africa, Enchanted Night, The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter, Wuthering Heights, The Hours, As I Lay Dying, Bellefleur, The Master and Margarita, Howards End, Ursula Under, ...and what about Porius?(I only know of four people who have read that tome (I'm one of them, my Fred, my sister, and some dude on Library Thing). I could keep fishing, but I'll stop...

Goodness knows I wouldn't want to force anyone to read a book they won't enjoy...and I'm not going to judge anyone for not liking the kind of books I love to read...or the books I love to write. Why do I cringe when I hear someone being hyper-critical about the books I love? Why do I cringe when everyone raves about Twilight? (I read my share of Anne Rice and loved "Interview", I have nothing against vampires. I cut my teeth on Dracula...but the Twilight saga? I can't do it...sorry. Why am I apologizing? Hell if I know.) To each their own, if people like it, fine, who am I to tell them what to read? Books, art, and music are all subjective, and I've found over the years that they are just as polarizing as politics and religion...people will love what they love and hate what they hate. They'll especially hate it if they don't get it...and for some reason, if it's especially "clever"...OMG, your name is mud! Yes, I've experienced this...I feel bad about my neck, I dared to stick it out there and oy vey...

Hi, I'm Laura, and I'm a writer of literary fiction.

From the time I wanted to be a writer, I wanted to write books that matter...books with a deeper meaning... (Still got your waders on? Good.) I wanted to write what I call "human documents". The complex relationships in my novel The Fractured Hues of White Light evolved through time, the ties that bind through an overlapping history. The book took a long time to write (about eleven years, on and off, I juggle manuscripts for fun), much of it came into being during the rough draft that formed during the "sweet spot" in 2000-2001 when I fixated on writing it all down, but time and experience offered up insights that I would have missed if I didn't take the time to go deeper, or ignored them. The first line in the excerpt that I'm going to give you here was produced only last year in November...probably on a dark and stormy night with the wind howling, making our old farmhouse creak...or a bleak gray day that had the smell of snow on the wind...when I wrote it, I knew I was getting closer to finishing, and I cannot express the joy I felt knowing this...and the sorrow when I realized what being "done" with it meant. It is a fine line writers walk.

``````

From Chapter 7, pages 162-164

“I will die in November — it’s as good a time to do it as any, I guess — why not, eh? Everything else is dying — I’ll just be one more thing.” Whitley blurted out while we watched the golden October sunset over the salt marshes — Sylvester was driving my father’s Caddy; Whitley and I sat in the backseat, enjoying the view. The conversations with my father during the weeks before his death always had grim tidbits like this, punctuated with a wink to take the edge off. Often our talks were threaded with memories of Lenore and Guthrie; these reminisces grew like seeds sown in a freshly turned garden of composted grief. “I loved them both, you know — I knew what was goin’ on and it devastated me inside when I first figured it out. If Lenore wanted to leave me for Guthrie, I would have let her go — it would have been right. But they would have wanted you — I would have never let them take you away from me — you were mine — my daughter — I love you with all my heart and soul.” After his tender words, he then shook his head. “What kind of father am I? I have never forgiven myself for how I treated Guthrie — I kicked him out during a time when we needed to heal as a family — but I was too proud — too angry — too hurt. I loved that boy and I turned my back on him.” He then leaned on me and cried; it felt so odd that I could ever be a source of comfort to him — for the first time in my life, I felt stronger than my father.

On the day before he died, Whitley charged me with the task to find Guthrie. “I could never face him — I’m a coward — that’s hard for me to admit, you know,” he said with a gleam in his fading eyes. “Once I’m gone — you’re going to need him. He’s still living at Margie’s house in Cleveland — Pinkerton knows where to find him.” I didn’t know for sure if he’d come.

On that day after the funeral, Guthrie and I took the long chilly walk during low tide from the beach to Salt Island; we were silent most of the time, but it was our sunset return along the narrow sand bar that he reiterated his disappointment that he wasn’t my father. “When you were born, I wanted to believe that I was your father because it was the only way — in my mind — the only way that I could conceivably express my love for you.” I listened to him reason this out, and I felt sorry for him — the enormity of the letdown seemed to crush him. Then he went on to explain that my resemblance to Lenore is complicating his former paternal feelings; the weighty tokens of my being there, every gesture I made reminded him of her too much, and he said that he feels revolted by his thoughts. I persisted with a steady stream of how come questions, which he evaded by making dumb jokes or lighting a smoke. I poked at him until he finally growled his answer. “Jeezus K. Ryst, girl, you don’t give up do you? You’re a pain-in-the-ass just like your mother — okay, I’ll tell you how come — it’s just wrong, that’s how come!”

His mustache failed to hide his angry mouth; I remained silent, waiting — what next?

“I’m sorry for barking at you, Buttons,” he muttered after awhile. “I should have come home a long time ago.” His entire face squinted against his emotions as he sent the words adrift into the November wind filled with ocean spray as the tide began to make its return to the beach. We laughed when our feet received a soaking during the last twenty feet of our trek on the sand bar. We’ve always cut it close — pushing our luck — Lenore always warned us “One of these days, you’ll be stranded out there until the tide goes out again — I’ll kill you if she gets poison ivy because you sent her to pee in the weeds!” It never happened, but once he had me climb up onto his shoulders as he waded back, falling down twice because the undertow tried to suck him out to sea. I never doubted for a second that he wouldn’t get me home safe that day — I held on tight just like he told me to — we only lost one of my flip-flops, no big deal.

Once we reached higher ground, Guthrie turned back to look at where we had been, the waves now nearly covering what remained of our path to the island. “But I suppose it was just as well that I stayed away,” he said to finish his thought.

Although he said nothing more, I could tell by the cast of his brow that he thought a lot. To comfort him, I hugged him as hard as I could — he sagged as he clutched me to his chest, and it seemed as if he, like Whitley, had also lost his strength. My image of him as Atlas withered in the pale twilight beach — he is just a man, not a myth. He appeared far from perfect on that sullen afternoon with a gray sky, gray ocean, and his gray hair — but he was my Guthrie; he has come home to me at last and I will not part with him ever again.

````

It's always a mystery to me how my characters develop and then have the audacity to do the things they do or say the things they say... and it's so strange how the things I write about conflict with who I am...goodness knows I feared that I bit off more than I could chew with this one. The ghosts of the past haunt these people, they are conjoined through layers of relationships: Guthrie's relationship with his stepfather, Whitley; Guthrie's affair with Whitley's young wife, Lenore; Whitley's paternal feelings for his children (Guthrie, Helena and Samantha). Guthrie's feelings for Samantha, as a child, and then how they changed when he returns to her life, no longer a child, but as a grown woman. Samantha's feelings for Whitley, her mother, Lenore; and Guthrie, who she didn't see as a brother or a father, but as a friend who came home to stay now and then. And then there is Sylvester and Helena in the mix...there is so much...is it too much? But just when I begin to doubt myself, I read it again and know I've done a good thing telling this story as written.

Writing this book was difficult...but it was probably one of my happiest times.

November...sun, gray, frost and snow all in one day...

2010-11-07T12:50:00.003-05:00

Viola Leaves... there is such beauty even in death...these dead leaves are so delicate, I must've snapped off at least fifty photos just in this spot of my garden where the mayflower viola's grow...

Grape Leaves

Frosted Chicory

Grape Leaves Tangle

Sunshine through mock orange leaf...happily, I caught the glow!

Frost

Moody November, a bittersweet time of year... the smell of snow in the air last night, flurries in the air...the ground this morning sugar coated with a mix of snow and spikes of frost...I went out with Max and my camera at the time that was once 8AM and now 7AM (dang I need to adjust to this too! I really wish they'd just leave it alone, compromise, set it in the middle and let it be.) The sun was up over the ridge and the last of the clinging leaves were drifting from the trees, blue jays swooping in the feeder, a chipmunk scurrying for her share...the crow watching from the top of the highest tree, gleaming black in the morning light (she wants a peanut)...my walk was done as soon as I ran out of memory on my camera...oops, my fault, I should've emptied it yesterday after the download...so I missed the rest of the acre wrapped in its shimmering frost...another morning will come...

Later:

The Blue Bookcase is having a Literary Blog Hop, asking bloggers to ~ Please highlight one of your favorite books and why you would consider it "literary."

On my side bar I have posted my favorite literary fiction novel by Joyce Carol Oates, Bellefleur, and the review that I wrote back in 2002 for Amazon. This book is a literary classic, it has everything and the kitchen sink going on in there, it has gorgeous language, and it is timeless...readers either adore it or despise it...they might read it multiple times or pitch it across the room within the first five pages...I can pick it up again and read it cover to cover and love it more.

If you read literary fiction then perhaps you would like to join?

It's Halloween!

2010-10-31T12:36:00.002-04:00

Happy Halloween Leaves

Slice of leaves

Pale Leaf (Lilac)

Three leaves

The pumpkin colored two...

Hey, Happy Halloween! There are chunky snow flurries in the air, more ice than flurry...well, we're up high, so no surprise...it's blustery and the sun ducks in and out...makes for a pretty day... we took a drive and picked pumpkins at our favorite pumpkin patch...we're late getting out n' about doing this, but that's how things have been this year, we're spread a little thin...busy bees...

My photos happen while just looking...look and see what's there. Lots of times I find things and have to run back inside for my camera. I'm often amazed that I get what I get with my little point n' shoot and my unsteady hands (I hold my breath a lot when I click, and I delete all the blurry images!) Then fooling around with color and levels, cropping...the digital sketchbook is growing...I want to put a book together of my best pics (it's hard to chose!)

I'm still working my way through the process of creating e-books of my two, and I get closer every day I poke at the formatting...it's very tedious. I guess more impulse purchases will happen once they're out there in that format, we'll see...(like me with MP3's to replace records that I no longer have or never bought.)

Still trolling my way through editing of Drinking from the Fishbowl, taking my time to make it right.

Another Saturday...

2010-10-23T19:07:00.000-04:00

Night Shade and Grass

Colts foot

A tangle

Cilantro

Colts Foot

Briar patch

Colts Foot leaves

Morning Glory vines

Night shade, I really loved the purple leaves!

As you can see I toured the acre with my little camera and my faithful dog, Max...took lots of photos...It's been a long week, lots happening, and I'm grateful for a day to putter, to sit, to soak in a tub of hot water with a good book and a beer, to walk my dog in daylight...to stand near the bird feeder after filling it and watching the birds fly in and out, blue jays, chickadees, cardinals, finches (and mustn't forget the chipmunks!), each taking a tasty treat...the little junco's have come back from their summer nesting places to spend the winter with us...

I'm setting up another giveaway of my novel The Fractured Hues of White Light at Goodreads, it should be going live in about 24 hours, I'll try to tuck a widget or something here so you can find your way to it...I did an entry at my Goodreads Q&A... based on some of the reactions I've received so far from readers, I felt compelled to make note of this...it goes like this:

This book is like a cat. It was clear to me while I was writing the book about Samantha Ryder’s story that this one has a distinct personality — she’s from the same litter, but her own cat, independent to the letter. She's not going to fit into anyone's lap easily... she might have soft and fuzzy places, but she has claws and teeth. Yes, she's a cat. I knew the novel isn’t going to be suited to everybody’s taste (some people love cats, some hate cats), she isn't mainstream fiction, she's literary fiction... she isn't romance, but she's a love story...she's a story about a young woman with autism, but she's not a textbook case about a young woman with autism. She's a book about life and family, who we love, why we love them, how we love them... it's about the emotional inner-scape of the human experience, and how even the "normal" people are just as incapable of expressing their feelings as the young woman afflicted with autism. Every reader approaches a book with their biases and expectations based on their personal experience — what they like and don’t like, what they’re comfortable with, and what makes them squirm. The Fractured Hues of White Light is one of those squirmy books because it’s psychological. As a writer, I have understood that books are a subjective business, and at times very polarizing — readers either passionately love a book or they passionately hate it — the reactions are as black and white as the type on the page. Something one might feel is ‘overworked’ might resonate perfectly fine with someone else, depending on what they’re used to reading. Some readers have issues with harsh language and adult situations, while some accept the reality of the character's lives within the story. The novel has an autistic/OCD sensibility that although was intended while I went through the process of writing her, she has also surprised me for effectively causing ‘trouble’ as I’ve received interesting points of view from readers and writers, which I welcome willingly as part of doing business as an author. I believe I did the right thing writing the book this way...I trust the reader to interpret what I’ve done as they see fit...it is what it is, it's just a story. Samantha Ryder, the little picture that isn’t hung quite right...off kilter just enough to ruin the image of a pretty young woman. If she were picture perfect, it would not only be too easy to write, but she would be wrong — there would be no story to tell.

I don't know if any of that makes sense to you, but it makes sense to me...and so that's my story...I'm stickin' to it.

Max having a good sniff, learning the stories of the acre...

10 10 10

2010-10-10T14:22:00.000-04:00

One leaf

The golden tree

Sunshine in the tree

Frost this morning

Frost on weeds

Frost on burdock leaf


Shadow on the driveway, made by the mock orange branch

It was a beautiful morning...a flood of sunshine, golden leaves, and our first frost...a beautiful day for porch sitting...

Editing...

2010-10-06T10:39:00.000-04:00

The Children's Moon

I took this photo on Saturday morning/early afternoon while lounging in the sunshine on one of the Adirondack chairs, I saw the little sliver of pale moon in the blue...I've always liked seeing it there during the day so I zoomed in with my little point n' shoot and caught it...

I finished reading through my latest manuscript Drinking from the Fishbowl on Saturday afternoon (the last time I worked on it was in 2008, so I had to get to know it again)...so now I have started over from the beginning, and will go deeper this time, it should move along as I have a firm grasp on the book as a whole and I pretty much know what needs to be done with it. It's a big book...after awhile I stopped keeping track of the page count, tho' the last I knew it was 530 or something...(The Fractured Hues of White Light in the double-spaced Word file was 516, and printed as a 437 page paperback so...I'm figuring Fishbowl will still weigh in under 500 pages by the time it goes to print). I'm not going to make a fuss about the size, there's not much I can do about it, the story will be told in it's own way, if what's there is good and it's got purpose, it's staying, I'm not going to strip the spirit out of it...I'll trust that if a reader likes what I do, and wants to read it, the size won't scare them off. I'll be brutal with it while going through the editing process (last time I edited this one, I whittled it down from 575 pages or something crazy like that. One earlier draft had ballooned to 703 pages, so I'm quite adept at being a brutal editor with my own work. Yes, I've kept track of the progress of my multiple drafts.) Page count/word count is a bugaboo when it comes to agents and publishers, they don't like anything too much over 100,000 words, yet, big books still get published (Jonathan Strange and Dr. Norrell, The Historian, The Time Traveler's Wife are beefy popular tomes), people still buy them...one of these days I'll come up with a less complicated slim story... someday, but in the meantime, this is what I have, and I'm not waiting around for 'my ship to come in'...

This book is the second one I wrote in this group of books that I have spent the last eleven years writing...it's centered on the relationship of three friends, Georgia Sullivan, Eugene Riley, and Bailey Muldoon... yes, it is a tangled triangle, and it is written with the intention of a "soap opera" feel to it, but it is more serious, more psychological, prickly and squirmy, tho' it has it's own sense of humor, and perhaps a bit too honest...I love how at times it's just so absurd...but you know, people with their tangled web of emotions are very often ridiculous when they're young and foolish and full of drama, especially when it comes to love and the fulfillment of our dreams...how we plan out our lives only to have obstacles pop up and send us on a different path...of course, some readers will hate it, some will love it...it depends on how they approach it, if they take it too seriously they'll miss the point...if they think it's too absurd, well...it is what it is, everyone comes to a book with their own tools, I have my way of seeing things...in the end, I have to trust the reader to judge for themselves...

Fishbowl is connected to Dusty Waters and The Fractured Hues of White Light as well, the character, Katharine, emerges again as an influence, and Guthrie Ryder has a small role...Aloysius Farnesworth is there in spirit too...so, the community of characters grows and overlaps much in the way life does...I'm enjoying myself immensely...

I've begun to explore E-books again, tho' I still haven't purchased one of the gadgets as I prefer a solid book made of paper over a gadget that requires batteries (I love reading by candlelight when the power goes out!) Well, I've decided that it wouldn't hurt to make one of the books available...Smashwords seems to be the go to place to get 'em done, but first, I have to strip the PDF down to a basic, format-less Word document... this will take some time...but I'm OCD enough to actually enjoy doing it! I've started with The Fractured Hues of White Light (I'm up to chapter 5) only because it's easier, Dusty Waters has way too many interesting visual bits that required special formatting in it's current form, so I don't know if it's going to be possible to do it and have it look like anything on an e-book device. (I wonder how a book like The House of Leaves looks as an E-book? That one has all kinds of cool bits making it a visual experience.)

(Note: most of this post was written on Sunday morning, intended to post on Sunday afternoon, but I had trouble uploading photos, so I saved the draft, and gave up! So here I am this morning, giving it another try...)

Anyway...the gray skies of the last couple of days have given way to blue again...I don't think the little pale moon will be out there, but the gold finches are busy in the coneflowers...I've finally shook off the cold that I've been battling with for a week, and so it's just allergies again...

Saturday Morning digital sketchbook...

2010-09-25T09:40:00.001-04:00

Purple and Gold, Autumn Flowers in the Field

It's cooler out today, yesterday we reached into the high 80's to low 90's depending on where you were standing at the time...or lying around, I was home with a migraine so I barely enjoyed the last hot summer day for a long while, but what time I did spend in the shade of my porch was nice because of a steady breeze that kept the heat tolerable... Taking it easy again today, FMS has been a pain for the last few days (well, to be honest, for a couple of weeks now I've had an ongoing flare-up)...why? Who knows why...stress is the easiest to blame, my sleep pattern has become disrupted, peri-menopausal hormones are in flux, and there's too much on my plate and so on...the reasons are many, I just keep going forward in spite of it for the most part, but yesterday I had to have a good lie down, I just couldn't squeeze out a Friday, when the nausea with the headache hit, that's when I finally pulled the plug on the "upright and going forward" mantra. Sorry, I don't do queasy. (Who can?) So I will baby myself this weekend and I will do the things I love in my favorite place in the world, home...

On the brighter side...I have pictures that I collected from the acre to share...

Probably the last rose in my garden until next year...

An Early Morning Glory

Itsy Bitsy Spider

Newly Minted Wings

This little guy wouldn't keep them open for long, but he liked hanging around us, there were several fluttering around the acre yesterday, the field around us is full of them!

Sparks in the Sunny Spots

Shadows

2010-09-13T20:16:00.000-04:00

Shadow me, shadow dog...he follows me everywhere!


Shadows on the wall...

Shadow of the pillar and spirea...


I had a devil of a time capturing this little guy's shadow! As you can see, I collected a few shadows from the acre over the last couple of weeks... Summer appears to be winding down, I spent much of Saturday catching some sun on my porch... yesterday rained, and the rest of this week seems to be set to rain... I wrote a lot... editing Drinking from the Fishbowl, I'm up to chapter 9 of part one...it's been moving along faster now, the first four chapters were a bit laborious because I had made lots of changes to them when I last went through (2008), and I left lots of ragged edges that needed to be tidied up, and now that I seem to be finally in my rhythm of doing, I intend to push on through to the end, making adjustments along the way. I made some changes yesterday that caused changes to other manuscripts in future books yet to be published, which is fine, something as small as changing what was once a phone call summoning someone to be somewhere, is now a friend driving a friend to where she should be really makes a difference in the telling of a tale, it also binds the two characters in a special way too... now is the time to do such things...so I had to go to the files and leave some notes for future reference. All of the characters in each book know one another in some way, so they overlap and run into one another continually, and have their influence along the way... I worked on some artwork and of course, some photos...it was a productive weekend! But today is Monday, I'm tired. Feeling a bit rough, I've been on my feet all day and feeling a bit stressed out. I need to relax...easier said than done!