Friday Thoughts on Writing

 

Outside my window this morning layers of white and grey clouds drift inland from the Pacific, promising more rain. The garden is lush with green, but the flowers are slower to open because of the chilly spring temperatures. But wisteria hangs in fragrant clusters over the garden shed and just standing under it is intoxicating. 

Every spring I smile at the way fig trees begin to leaf out from the very tips of their branches, looking like butterflies about to fly off. 

In a writing group I belong to, the question of the month is "What writing projects make your heart sing?" I've been thinking long and hard about this topic and have come to a few conclusions. 

I love writing this blog. Few of my real life friends read it, along with a few family members, but for the most part, I've never met my readers face to face. Yet something connects us. How could that connection be defined? I'm still thinking about that one. 

I love writing about nature, and combining words with images. Not in a scientific way, but just observing the wonders of creation - what goes on in my garden, and in the geographies I visit. 

I love writing little stories about my life - short interactions with strangers, or sweet things I observe about my grandchildren.

Yesterday I went for a walk with Iris and Cora. Cora is slow to talk, but doesn't miss a beat. I mentioned the word 'park' at her house and she made a beeline for the door. Later, on the walk, she stopped occasionally to cup her little hand behind her even tinier ear as if to say, "I hear something" - a dog or construction machinery, or a bird, and she nods vigorously, and says 'yes', when I mention what it is. 

Not all stories make it to the blog, of course. I'm working on a memoir of our family's time in Ecuador. It's been derailed by teaching this semester, but I will soon continue work on it. 

I love to write the kinds of things I love to read - mysteries (they are hard to write!), poetry, essays or paragraphs about food and home-keeping, stories of the past and the present.

In my collected quotations this one, again by L. M. Montgomery in Anne's House of Dreams, where Anne is conversing with Gilbert, perhaps describes my favourite writing projects best, 

"I'd like to add some beauty to life," said Anne dreamily. 

"I don't exactly want to make people know more...

I'd love to make them have a pleasanter time 

because of me...to have some little joy

or happy thought that would never have existed 

if I hadn't been born."

I'll leave you with one last cloud of fragrant wisteria, and wish you all a lovely weekend. 

A Winter's Tale

Once upon a time, in the land of Silvertray, three white houses, each with a red roof, stood in the forest. 



One fat snowflake fell,



then another and another until cold, white snowflakes covered the ground. 

The three white houses looked at each other and admired how beautiful they were with their curved windows, their heart cut outs and their shiny red roofs.

"But," said the first white house, "we were made to be lived in, and there's no one here."
"We need someone to turn on our lights. What can we do?" said the second white house.
"Let's advertise," said the third white house.

So the three houses sent an advertisement to www.silvertrayonline.st, that said:

"Three cozy houses in a forest need someone to live in them. Must like winter." 

 Then they waited. Still the cold snow fell until drifts of white completely buried the forest floor.

And the three white houses were lonely. They wondered if anyone would ever come to live in them.

One day the first little house heard a squeaking noise and saw a tiny black nose peek up from under the snow. The second little house saw another tiny black nose peek up from under the snow. Then the third little house saw another tiny black nose pop up from under the snow.

The three white houses watched as the three tiny black noses twitched and wriggled. Snow flew up into the air as tiny little feet kicked and kicked until three tiny brown mice popped out on top of the snow.   

"What beautiful houses," said the first tiny brown mouse, whose name was Alexander. He wore a red bow tie.
"They look so cozy," said the second tiny brown mouse, whose name was Natalia, who had a blue ribbon around her neck.
"I wonder who lives in them," said the third tiny brown mouse, whose name was Victoria. She wore two minty green ribbons around her ears.

The three white houses with red roofs were so excited that they almost burst their doors.

"NOBODY lives here," they said all together.
"Would you like to live in us?" said the first white house.
"Please open my door," said the second white house.
"You can turn on my lights," said the third white house.

"REALLY?" said Alexander, Natalia, and Victoria. 

"YES, indeed," said the three white houses with red roofs.

Alexander moved into the first white house. He had brought his red wagon with him and he used it to haul logs from the forest.

Natalia moved into the second white house. She brought her polar bear snow globe to shake when she wanted to see snow fall.



Victoria moved into the third white house. She brought her sled with her and all the mice took turns pulling each other around in the snow.

And so the three white houses sighed with contentment. 
"We're so happy to have someone to live in us," they said.

Alexander, Natalia, and Victoria played in the snowy forest every day. When night time came and they got cold, they each went into their own white house with a red roof, turned on the lights, and spent a cozy night.

The End

This Christmas Tale was inspired by three metal houses recently purchased. I thought to create a scene for the coffee table that the grandchildren can play with. It was such fun to come up with the ideas and the props. 

I'm linking to Five on Friday, hosted by Amy of Love Made My Home. For the Five item tie-in here are 5 things I'm thankful for today:

1. School is out for 2 weeks.

2. The Christmas tree is up and twinkles merrily.

3. School is out for 2 weeks.

4. The sun is shining. I don't mind these chillier temperatures when it's so bright outside. (by chillier I mean just below freezing - not so very chilly by some standards, but rare enough here)

5. School is out for 2 weeks. Don't get me wrong. I love teaching, I love the students, but it's been a trying few months in some areas and I'm glad for a break. 

From the Back of My Mind

I gave up making New Year's resolutions years ago. If something needs to be changed in my life, and I realize it, I'll begin resolving the issue at the moment. Goals and resolutions grow out of real life, not a date on the calender. That said, it's hard to avoid thinking about change and growth when talk shows, newscasters, magazines and online reading focuses on the topic. It's not a bad thing. 

some of my stash

We've moved twice in the past 3 years. There's nothing like having to pack up all your fabric, scrapbooking supplies, knitting yarn, and paints to make you realize how much stuff you really have. That "you" I'm talking about is really "me." For the past year, I've been resolving to use up what I have. The progress is slow and sporadic, but sure. 

Lately, I've been thinking, not just of using stuff up, but making the most of what I have. Those photography books, for example. I've looked at them, I've tried out a few things on my camera, but I've not delved into really using it to its fullest capability. I want to. I will. Especially now that I've written it for the world (my readers) to see.  

 a section of my bookshelf



A few years ago, before beginning my B.A. in French, I did a little free-lance writing. I had some success, articles in newspapers, cooking magazines, Today's Christian Woman, Romantic Homes, and others, but it's a tough slog. And rather isolating. I love teaching and will continue to do so, but the writing urge is tickling again. Since my birthday in October, I've been writing a short (500 word) essay each night. There are book ideas brewing in my brain. Possibilities. I don't know where the writing will take me, but I'm going to enjoy the ride.


So there. I guess I do have some resolutions for this new year. 

Susan Branch wrote a post entitled "The Care and Feeding of Dreams." It's lovely. My French degree is something I dreamed about for a long time until finally just decided to do it.  Don't we all have dreams? For ourselves? For others? Dreams can be small, like beginning a small garden plot, or large, like writing a book or traveling the world. They are also highly flexible: perhaps a garden will begin with a few containers of herbs, or a grand tour of Europe with books and movies. Sometimes dreams have to be surrendered, but new ones will come to take their place. To dream, to envision the future, is a human trait. Don't suppress your dreams, adjust them, make them work.

Well. This post went on a ramble. But that's the way it is with writing.

Art Show

 The journals were delivered to the art show venue last weekend. I have such fun making them. And using them. Writing helps me clarify my thoughts. Most of my writing is prose, and in complete sentences. Some fragments for variety. I like lists, too. They can be superb jumping-off points for further writing of the exploratory kind. 
 

Some lovely fabric pieces lounge in my sewing room, too beautiful to discard, too small to do much with them. I had the idea of making some little bags. These are the result. I think them beautiful. Silk, brocade, wool, velvet - such luscious textures. They will also be in the art sale.
 

If you live locally (Southern Vancouver Island), here's the official poster for the event. The venue is small and cozy, with hot apple cider and drinks. There's sure to be a fire burning and lots of beautiful art - from paintings to pottery to jewelry to cards and more. I'm thrilled that my work is there as well. 

Today the wind is howling high in the trees, blowing the last vestiges of autumn from the trees. Since I was not called to teach, I'm planning to stitch and sew. Christmas is coming, you know! How are you spending this second-to-last day of November?

One Project Completed

Eight blank journals are ready for the December 1 Art Show. I've been puttering away at them, unsure of how I wanted to finish them. Yesterday I just began collaging the fronts, painting with gesso and acrylics, using my markers and scraps of paper. Because isn't it more fun to write in a pretty journal than a plain one? Yes. I thought you'd agree.
 

In the upstairs storage room there is a shelf of journals, each page filled with prose, poems, lists, quotes and even a few sketches. There are long gaps between some entries, but the journals tell the story of much of my life. It's surprising how often I go and look something up in a journal. And then get caught up reading the words written long ago. 
 

I left these two journals plain because I used old nautical charts that my husband was THROWING AWAY. They are sturdy and smooth and speak of adventures on the sea. Wouldn't it be great to have a chart of our inner landscape as readily available? Perhaps that's what the blank pages are for - charting life.

Our son is on a business trip - in Boston - clear across the continent as well as the border. He's flying home today, on the busiest travel day in the US.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of my American readers. I'm thankful for you! Enjoy the turkey and the pie, but most of all, each other!

See that article title on the cover - the one that says, "Walk your way to a Stronger Marriage"? Well, that was written by yours truly. I'm thrilled to have an article published in this magazine.

Here's a link if you want to read the article on line instead of the print version.

Write It Down

I once heard Elisabeth Elliot say that a person doesn't really know what she's thinking until she writes it down. I find that true. When I write in my journals, I clarify what I think - I bring my thoughts together into some sort of cohesive (or sometimes incoherent) mass.

When I take the time to write down ideas of things to make, recipes to try, projects to complete, I find the very act of writing stimulates me to think of even more ideas.

And I refer back to my journals - they are more than diaries, they are the developing story of who I am.

I've never decorated a journal before - this is my first, but it won't be my last. So much fun.