Fresh Snow

Fresh Snow now paints the browns and grays of Winter
Adding soft and quiet tones to the air.
A quiet stillness that invites pause and reflection.
A perfect Winter morning.
                               ~ Carolyn

Winter Deep Freeze

Cold.
Deep freezing cold.

Ice that never melts.
Where do the birds take a sip?

Evergreens darken.
Are they shivering too?

Trees are naked.
What keeps them warm?

All preserved in a state of limbo.
Waiting for the meltdown of Spring.

                    ~ Carolyn

Fresh Year... Fresh Inspiration

I sit at my keyboard in my my upper story office reflecting on what lies ahead. A fresh year... so many desires to change, to do better... to become.

A glance out my picture window brings fresh inspiration. The sun is just beginning to peak through the gray clouds of Winter that have filled our skies for so many days. Sensing this moment will be fleeting, I look back to my keyboard to plunk the letters that will form the words to describe the scene before it is gone.  

My frozen tundra below has come alive with twinkling, sparkling diamonds dancing on the vast expanse of once dull gray snow below.  The frosted evergreen trees seem to wink with thoughts of promise for this new day, for this fresh new year. I hear a bird chirping with delight, surely experiencing the exhilaration of this moment as much as I.

Ahh! It's gone! It can't be, I'm not yet finished! I have more thoughts to surface, more emotions to feel. Don't tease me with such beauty and then leave me so soon. I watch the sky for movement, for a glimmer of hope that the sun will return, allowing the dance to continue, but the clouds have once again drawn over the sun and the magic has disappeared.

"Clouds... move!" My strong will does not affect them. They march to a much higher order than me.  I am left watching, hoping... for my glorious moment to return.

♦♦♦

There are those that may think this blog has been abandoned... no posts since June. I suppose that does suggest abandonment. Actually, my desire to contribute to this blog became overshadowed by my love of gardening and joys of family and... life!  Truth be told, my attention has been largely diverted to my gardening blog: This Grandmother's Garden where I have dabbled a bit in writing alongside my gardening. So many good things to choose from.

And yet I do desire to write, to allow my muse to flow freely.  I'm forever thankful to Merrilee who thinks I've abandoned her as well, though I have not. Her creative writing class fueled my desire to succeed, to do what has been in my heart for a lifetime... I've just never given it sufficient time to develop.

This is a Fresh Year, a time for me to gather fresh inspiration... to allow the thoughts deep within me to flow, to form words and paragraphs and stories. Muse... I long to set you freeeeee! Unlike the clouds in my magical moment, I do have control over what I choose.

This Fresh Year, I choose to make some changes around here.

Stay tuned!

Oh and BTW, the sun still hasn't returned...

gonna have to make my own sunshine today.

Week Seven and Eight in Review: Just so I can say I'm caught up...

but I'm really not.  

At least not with my writing.

But my brain is being filled with wonderful tools to make my writing easier, more creative and more productive.

This week I read and enjoyed Merrilee's links on Fear and Perfectionism.

I most identified with Mary Anne Hahn's post:

Perfectionism And Writing: The Oil And Water Of Writing Success. 

Yes, Merrilee it is worth reading, even with the horrible red background.

"Little did I know that my perfectionism would also turn out to be the biggest roadblock to my writing dream for many years. Far from being a "wonderful" or "positive" character trait, it held me back, taunted me, scolded me, filled me with guilt, scoffed at my burning desire to be a writer. Without teachers to constantly stroke my ego and provide me with the encouragement I so needed, I floundered and procrastinated, struggled and avoided.

It took a long time for me to realize the real reason I wasn't writing. I blamed it on lack of discipline, or lack of time, or occasionally came to the conclusion that maybe I just wasn't meant to be a writer. Then I would stumble across an old story or essay I'd written, recognize the skill and talent there, recall the joy and fulfillment I'd found in the writing process, and give writing for publication another go. Yet nothing was ever perfect enough to submit" 

These are Mary Anne's words, but they quite eerily could be my own.

Of course, I also had the additional roadblock that with so many children to nurture and care for, how could I ever find the time to write?  Looking back, that was just another excuse.  I knew of others in like situation that found the time to write and to do it well enough to be published... and still mother their many children.  (Editors Note: My husband adds... Yes but how well did they mother? How did their children turn out?  Of course I can't say about their children, but I can mine... they all turned out wonderfully well, contributors to society, every one of the eight I was blessed with. And in the end, that is far better than any other work I could spend my life doing.)

♦ ♦ ♦

I must admit, I have actually been published... exactly once.  It was my second submission.  My first was denied.  To my credit, I reworked the story and resubmitted a year later, and this time, my story was accepted. (I'd include a link to my story, but I'm quite sure no one is that interested.)  I was given a check for $100.  The date was December 20, 1992.   I can still remember the thrill of seeing my story in print. I felt validated as a writer and I knew my college English professor would have been proud.

A whole lot of life has passed by since then and I have never since submitted a story for publication.  "Nothing was ever perfect enough to submit."

This course is giving me the tools I need to write again and perhaps the courage to submit another story for publication. I could use another hundred bucks.

♦ ♦ ♦

I should also mention how much I enjoyed the Guest Post for this week:

Thirst, terror and barriers: three flavors of writer’s block by Emma Newman.

From her words I have gleaned the following:

So what do you do in drought?

Go for walks.

Absorb and don’t try to produce.

When it’s ready, the well will be full again.

I seem to be doing a lot of that lately,
part of my quest to set my Muse free.

Week Six in Review: Never mind that we just completed week seven

The Guest Post for the week was The Muse’s Secret Address by Meredith Wickham.


This post is amazing... all you blog stalkers that never leave comment should seriously consider following the link to read Meredith's post. (I know you are out there, my stat counters assure me I do have readers. ☺)

After reading this post you may also want to visit Merediths garden blog: 
The Enchanted Earth.  It's one of my favorites!


Meredith's words from her guest post invited me to ponder the value of paying attention to the “here and now”.

"I trained myself to note the minutiae of the present moment, to become aware, bit by bit, of this particular here and now. Paying renewed attention to my reality might be as simple as noticing the sunset outside the kitchen window as I do the dishes, or actually feeling the flow of the hot water over my hands."

I'm afraid that as a mother of so many children, my life has been more of a “hurry up” mode. The reality of my "here and now" was more like: "Come here... (insert a child's name) and I mean right now, " said with a sweet and loving voice to the mischievous stinker boy hiding under his bed after... (insert any act that a little stinker boy might do.) With so much to do and so many wonderful little beings to do for, not much time was spent in slow mode.


Now, for the most part, my children are all grown up and I’m in the process of discovering how to let my Muse out of the closet. She is a bit timid and frightened that I may include her in my “hurry up” list of to do’s. My husband shared with me the visual image of someone cracking the door slightly and peering out with large and sensitive eyes to see if it were safe to come out yet. Yes, it's safe.


I am discovering that as I learn to slow my pace and allow myself to really see the “here and nows” of my life, I can experience moments where wonderful ideas flow.  And then, my Muse is free to dance about my mind and enrich my soul, giving breath to my own creative thoughts.  And then I can write... and I do, fettered only by my poor typing skills.  (I never did learn the "home keys" during my college typing class as I was madly in love with my honey and only had eyes for him.)


One more thought from Meredith that caputured my attention:

"The tiniest detail is the gateway to story."

To harness the power of that statement, the answer is again, to slow down and train my eye to see and my heart to listen to the tiniest of details.  I'm actually enjoying experimenting with this concept through my camera lens.  There is a beautiful world out there that most of us are far too busy to see.  

That's all for now... 
 this new week my goal is to keep my head above water, and find moments to slow my pace... enough to allow my Muse to dance!