Category: writing

A Thankful Thursday

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It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve written a “Thankful” post for Thursday. Today is the day.

After yesterday’s storms and rain, I am thankful for the sun, blue skies, and white, wispy clouds of this afternoon.

I am thankful that there are still full-service gas stations! Yes, there is one in the nearby small town. The owner and head mechanic is my neighbor. They put four new tires on my car this afternoon.

I am thankful for the ministry of my church and our pastor.

I am thankful for the friendships in my community.

I am thankful for the time to have quiet afternoons and days of “leisure” in my retirement (and, no, I don’t think “retirement” is a bad word. I have retired from teaching, but not from living).

I am especially thankful for allergy medications. The pollen is getting to me this year. NIghtly doses of Xyzol and morning “shots” of AsterPro are getting me through the season.

I am thankful that I can sit in the rocking chair and enjoy a small patch of sunshine and the beauty of the orchids blooming in the living room window. I think it’s time to find another pot to add to the window sill!

“When I Was Seven”–Wild Writing, Day 13

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Last winter, I signed up for Laurie Wagner’s self-paced class, A Wild Writing Practice, 21 Days of Pen to Page”. Each Day, Laurie reads a poem, usually by a contemporary poet, and provides some “jump-off lines” to get us started. Then, we set a time for fifteen minutes and write, keeping the pen to page without stopping. It’s like Peter Elbow’s freewriting. When I engage in this practice, I never quite know where I will end up.

Today, is Day 13 of the practice. The poem is “Twelve, Twelve, Twelve” by Aimee Nezhukumatathi. The jump-off is to use numbers and/or the alphabet to organize the details of the story. Today, I began thinking about the old song, “When I Was Seventeen” and the next line in the lyric, “It was a very good year”–except for me, my teen years were not all that great. I didn’t have the language or the knowledge to understand that I am my nature an introvert, and I just thought I was an odd-ball and a misfit. So, today I wrote about “when I was seven” and used the letters, not as an acrostic, but as an organizing principle. Here is the result:

When I Was Seven

  • A–When I as seven, we moved from the “Old House,” a simple “shot gun” farm house with white clapboard siding and a front porch with green chairs and a faded yellow and white glider, where we lived with Grandmother and Granddaddy while the new house on the hill was being built.
  • B–We moved in the spring after Grandmother died of leukemia and a cerebral hemmorhage. I didn’t know what that was then, but I knew she went to the hospital one day and did not come home. I remember the huge purple-black bruises on the underside of her arms.
  • C–When I was seven, we had a whole new place to explore. There was the fort in the woods across the driveway next to the road to Peak where my sister and I could hide from our brother and the cow path across the GP land betwen our new house and the Old House.
  • D–Before we moved to the new house, Mama and Grandmother would carry us from our bedroom to the kitchen to dress for school because the floor was so cold in winter. The Old House had no insulation in the floor or underpinning to keep out the cold.
  • E–We learned to pop open crepe myrtle buds from Grandmother. She picked the buds from the crepe myrtle tree that grew in the corner at the back porch. We squeezed the buds until the pink petals opened between our fingers.
  • F–That back porch corner was a good place to play, especially after a rain storm. There was a puddle of clear water that ran down the corner of the roof where the porch intersected with the rest of the house. The puddle was filled with tiny brown and tan pebbles that sifted through our small fingers.
  • G–It wasn’t long after we moved before Granddaddy sold the Old House and moved in with us. Strangers moved into the Old House, and it lost its magic; it was no longer my home with its wood and linoleum floors, dim lights, kitchen and pantry filled with the wonders of home-canned vegetables, staple goods, and the pies and cakes Grandmother and Mama baked.
  • H–And yet, it is the Old House that reminds me of childhood, of exploring the outdoors with Grandmother who introduced me to the little critters of the world–lizards and glass snakes, bugs and beetles, and salamanders in the spring box; to fishing in the creek at Peak where the rumble of cars over the wooden bridge above us sounded like thunder.

The Simple Things

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It’s the smallest things

the petals of the apple and cherry blossoms littering the ground like so many snowflakes;

tiny purple flowers like stars that have fallen between the blades of grass;

jasmine trumpets hanging in the tree branches.

It’s simple things

the sweet burn of the hot cinnamon spiced tea at breakfast.

It’s as simple as

the turtles sunning themselves on the water-soaked logs in the lake;

pollen-swollen pinecones in the making;

the rumble of thunder before the rain.

It’s the simple smell of bread baking and the taste of butter melting over hot-cross buns during the Lenten season.

It’s the glitter of sunlight on the water and the shadow of trees on the pavement.

It’s the sound–or rather the silence–of my steps along the straw-covered path through the woods.

My Reading Goal–an Update

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I just finished putting in the last book I finished toward my reading goal. As of today, I’ve read 16 books toward my modest goal of 52 for the year. I think my Story Graph app says I’m six ahead for the year. I do have a few that I’ve started but am reading slowly over time. And there is one book that I’m not sure I’m going to finish.

My StoryGraph chart reveals that I am certainly partial to mysterious and adventurous novels, but to be realistic, most of those are historical mysteries.

I joined two book clubs: Book of the Month and Aardvark Book Club. I wanted to read more physical books this year although I still read quite a few ebooks on my Kindle. And I do order the occasional book from Amazon still.

Currently, I’m reading Les Miserables–all 1,500 pages. It’s sitting here on the arm of the chair. I have to admit that this is a very slow read in part because the font is small, but also because Hugo goes into so much detail about character and place. I honestly have not tried to look up all the allusions he includes to people and places. I’d never make progress through the story if I did. And even though it is a long book, it isn’t boring. I love the cover of this soft-bound book–leather cover with a word cloud embossed in it–characters’ names, descriptions, quotes. . . . It is a recent translation by Isabel Hapgood (2009). As a result, I think it is relatively readable.

I took a break, though, this week to read one of the books I received from the Aardvark Book Club, A Spinster’s Guide to Danger and Dukes by Manda Collins. It is a historical romance/murder mystery with many of the usual tropes of Victorian gothic novels–except the “things that go bump in the night” (although one of the characters does say that the duke has not mentioned any hauntings of the family estate but there could be one). It also makes use of the “enemies-to-lovers” trope. I enjoyed it. It was a fun read. The protagonists are very likeable. Manda Collins avoids most of the stereotypes of historical romance, such as the “knight-in-shining armor” and “damsel in distress,” although the femaile protagonist does have a problem which which the male protagonist assists. And in one scene, it is the female protagonist who “rescues” her duke when he has a panic attack when they are locked in the chapel folly; the duke is clautrophobic.

The one book I have not been able to finish is The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett. This book is also a mystery whose primary detective is patterned on Nero Wolf. It is somewhat dystopian nature, which usually doesn’t bother me, but the world-building and characterization in this novel did not suit me–at this time. I may go back and finish it, but for now, it will be on my did not finish list.

I could stay up all night reading, but my eyes won’t let me. Look for a another post at another time with more of my picks of books worth mentioning.

Thankful Thursday–February Wrapup

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I thought my days would be slower somehow, that time would would not “fly by” once I retired. It seems the opposite is true. Today is Leap Day, February 29. I don’t get the math or the science behind the reasons for this additional day added to the calendar every four years–or even why February has to be the shortest day of the year with only 28 days. Someone with a more scientific and mathematical brain will have to suffice.

In spite of being a short month, it has been a full month. I am thankful for the gifts that this month has brought me:

  1. The Making Kin through Photography practice circle hosted on the Kinship website. The eleven people in the group have been so kind and supportive, and I have eased back into a photography practice. I am taking more (short) walks and exploring the land where I live. In the coming months, I want to expand my walks to include exploration of the state park system with the goal of earning the Ultimate Outsider status.
  2. Lent. I know, it sounds odd, but Lent and Advent are my two favoriate liturgical seasons. To me, Lent is not a time of “giving up” something. It is more reflective than that. It is a time of introspection and a time of slowing down, even as it seems that Nature is speeding up.
  3. Cherry blossoms and camelias. The cherry tree is in full bloom, and it is beautiful! I have been photographing the cherry at least once a week since October, watching it as it turned from green to orange and red to bare branches and now to white. By next week, it will be green! My photography practice has made me mindful of the subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle changes in this tree!
  4. Moments of sun and days of rain. There is something about winter rain. It is darker and heavier than summer rain, but when the sun shines, it is glorious. Is the sunshine after a winter rainy day brighter and the air clearer than in summer? It seems so to me.

February is the big birthday month in my family: two of my uncles and my brother, sister, and I all have birthdays this month. One of my uncles and I share a birthday. As a friend from school puts it, we are birthday twins (that friend also shares a birthday with me; we are also birthday twins. I need to ask him where he was born. It would be quite the coincidence if we shared the same hospital nursery!). I am thankful for all the birthday wishes I received, and I am especially thankful that I could spend the day with my grandson. There is nothing quite like getting a birthday hug from a two year old!

Currently–Monday Musing

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It’s the last week of February already! Not possible. . . . My brother, sister, two uncles on my mother’s side of the family, and I have had our birthdays. March will have just as many (my father-in-law, sister-in-law, niece, and son in person; my mother-in-law and my father in heaven). The cherry tree is blooming, the blossoms just opening into white “snow,” as A. E. Housman wrote in his poem. And because it’s the end of the month, it’s time for my monthly “Currently” reflection.

Currently, I’m

loving taking photo walks around the ponds Grampa built so many years ago and exploring the woods off the “beaten trail” I usually take.

eating dark chocolate with sea-salted caramel centers

reading historical novels. The First Ladies is one of my favorite ones so far, but I do love escaping into the nineteenth century.

working with some soft bamboo yarn to make a crocheted blanket

celebrating my sixty-sixth trip around the sun with my family

giving thanks for the life I have and the loves of my life

planning the spring tour of South Carolina’s state parks

feeling sad (a former student, a former principal, and spouses of dear friends have passed) and joyful at the same time.

I have to say that my life at this moment in time is good. I have reconnected with my college roommate, who lives about an hour and a half away in North Carolina now instead of five hours away in Florida. My health is much better, and I am becoming more active in other ways. I am making the most of my retirement!

A Different Take on Thankful Thursday

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I joined Kinship several months ago after reading about it in Kim Manley Ort’s newsletter. In January, I joined a practice circle, Making Kin through Photography, a course that highlighted contemplative photography practices. I was familiar with the concept through Kim’s newsletters and courses and the practices from Christine Valter Paintner’s book Eyes of the Heart, which combines Christian contemplative practices with photography.

I am so thankful I joined. I’ve been part of other photography groups, but I have not found a more supportive group of photographers than I found in the Making Kin practice circle. No one judged my images. (If they did, they kept quiet!) Seriously, nearly everyone found something in the images that connected with them.

I don’t always have a lot of faith in myself. I take criticism too personally at times. When I was an impressionable third grader, an artist pretty much told me that I could never be an artist myself. I made do with one dimensional houses and lollipop trees and stick figure humans. No one encouraged me to try to learn how to draw and make “art.” I was a musician, and I was GOOD, so good that I played Chopin’s “Military Polonaise” as my talent for the local Junior Miss competition and my junior recital. A classmate’s father told her that I sounded “professional.” I was elated. At last, I was good at something!

And then I found photography. Shortly after I got married, my husband and I bought a fancy Canon AE1 Program SLR camera. I was hooked. I could burn five or six rolls of 24-frame film in a weekend in the mountains! That camera was my “baby”—until I had babies! Another friend told me I had a good eye for composition, and I even received an honorable mention in a photography contest sponsored by the SC State Parks service.

But that changed a few months ago, I was told I worked too hard to make unphotogenic pictures into good ones. Yes, the image was not well composed. It was “busy” in that there were lots of leaves and branches and “stuff” in the frame. However, the commentor missed the point of the image: I was trying to capture the LIGHT! You see, the sun was in the Western sky at the right angle to shine through the petals of the sasanqua flower. It made an opaque thing transparent. I was mesmerized by that light! Instead, I was told that the image was “unphotogenic.” I stopped sharing in that group. Another group I belong to is so large that I get lost in it.

So, when I joined the Making Kin practice circle, I was reluctant to share, but I put my Brave on, and shared each week but one (because I couldn’t attend; I was having a medical procedure during our time for the the Zoom call). I’ve even shared the technically and compositionally bad photos, and the people in the group got what I was trying to say.

And all this is to say: I am so thankful for this group of men and women who “get” the concept of contemplative photography. Contemplative photographic practices are not about technique or correctness; they are about connecting with the subject that appears in the frame. They are about accepting what is in front of the lens without judgment of what is photogenic or not. Combined with Christian contemplative practices, the act of receiving images is a kind of prayer as well that allows worship and praise.

I will be watching the Kinship site for additional contemplative photography practice circles. I am thankful for that community.

Monday Musings–Memories and the Land

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That’s a holly tree growing between the house and the wood-burning furnace that heats our house in winter and hot water year-round. It’s a survivor; its partner tree had to be cut down after our house burned in 2011. It’s had to have a trim or two and some pruning, but it is growing. I know it’s been there for more than forty years.

About this time forty years ago, I drove to this piece of land that has been home to me since 1984. My then-fiance and his father were cutting trees and clearing space where our home would be. Grampa “Hub” Fulmer was there, too, “supervising” from his perch on his old, faded Ford tractor. He was dressed in his usual overalls, lined denim coat, and a blue hat with the earflaps pulled down over his ears. He motioned to me to come next to him. He had his cane with him and pointed at several small trees. “Don’t let Grady cut down those holly berry trees,” he told me. In just a few weeks, Grampa would leave us in March. It saddens me that I didn’t have long to get to know him except through the stories that are told about him.

The hollies are only one of the reminders of Grampa. Grady bought our property from Grampa before we married. In fact, he had purchased one tract before we met with the intention of setting up his home there. He bought a second small tract for $500.00 (well below market value) right after he proposed. And then, when Granny’s estate was settled later than fall, he bought the rest of our nearly ten-acre tract. After Grampa retired, he constructed seven ponds to raise minnows. Fishermen stopped at his minnow house on their way to Lake Murray. The two ponds on our tract form another connection to this man I did not have time to get to know.

I’ve been photographing the land recently while participating in the Kinship practice circle, Making Kin through Photography. This class focuses on contemplative photography practices and some somatic practices as preparation for receiving the images. As I walk around with my “big girl camera,” I think about the story I might tell through my images. I feel connected with the land and the people who have lived and worked it when it was farmland. I know that I want to keep this land in the family as part of my sons’ heritage and legacy, even though they now live more than an hour away (but still in South Carolina and a short drive away).

Today, the land connects me to family.

Oops! I slipped up–Monday Musing on a Tuesday: Currently

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I started a “listing” practice in June when I retired from teaching. I joined Liz’s Here: Five Things and have participated in those classes each time she’s offered them. There is another one coming up in two days. I also started doing “Currently” lists. I’ve decided to do a Currently list once a month–at the end of the month as a kind of reflection on what I’ve been doing. I even found a free printable that I put in my planner to keep it as a “memory piece” along with the other parts of the month. I include printed photos I’ve taken during the week as well as the usual planner stuff. I may even start keeping other kinds of ephemera of my life in the planner as well.

So, CURRENTLY: I am

loving the wide variety of winter clouds. I’ve noticed how different they are from summer clouds. Winter clouds are wispier, thinner, unlike the mountainous clouds of summer.

eathing fresh baked sour dough bread. I used to make sourdough bread before the children were born. I’ve started back. I “cheat.” I do use a bread machine for the mixing and the baking. I think today, though, I may bake a plain yeast breat for a change.

drinking lots of hot tea. My favorite this winter is Harney and Sons’ Hot Cinnamon Spice. There is enough sinnamon for the little bit of burn. Of course, I do like other teas as well. A good cup of chai latte is always welcome.

watching Masterpiece Mysteries on our local PBS station. My favorite is “Miss Scarlet and the Duke.” The fact that it is set in the Victorian period is certainly a draw, but so is the fact that its protagonist is a strong female who is trying to “make it” in the men’s world of private detecting. Eliza’s relationship with “the Duke,” Inspector William Wellington, is interesting to watch as it develops.

reading The First Ladies, a novel about the friendship between Eleanor Roosevelt and Mary McLeod Bethune. The novel focuses on their work as civil rights activists during the Depression and probably beyond (I’m only half way through it). So many of the issues these women faced are still with us. Reading this novel reminds that, though we have come a long way in the civil rights department, we still have a long way to go to achieve perfect equality.

working on my writing practice, probably not as consistently as I would like. I’m a work in progress.

listening to the music of Ludivico Einaudi, composer and pianist. This is my go-to playlist when I’m reading or writing.

buying too many craft supplies and books! I’ve started making my own stickers using templates and clip art I find on Etsy. I have decided that Etsy is addictive.

planning so many things: photography projects, excursions and day trips, new pieces of writing and art. . .

feeling content. I am doing the things I truly want to do. Only one thing would make me happier–to be able to see my adorable grandson daily, but until they move here or we move there, it’s not going to happen. Still, I will enjoy seeing the images his mother posts on Facebook.

Walking with My Camera: Contemplative Photography and Writing

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I stood in the backyard next to the Big Pond in my black rain boots with the rainbow-colored polka dots, feeling my feet sink into the rain-soaked dirt under the winter-brown grass. I push my sleeves up above my elbows. Today, it is spring-like. (Last week, the highs were in the mid-thirties.) The breeze is gentle with just a hint of coolness. The rain frogs sing from the woods in front of me. Tomorrow may be a washout. Today, I take advantage of the sun, blue skies, and intermittent clouds. Surely, “this is the day the Lord has made, and I will rejoice and be glad in it.”

There are signs of spring even though we are not halfway through winter—the seventy-degree day, tiny buds of new leaves on the willow beside Gramps’s pond, thistles growing out of the grass, yellow dandelions in the front yard, the winter-blooming camellia, and gladiola stalks between the camellia and the rose bush—all harbingers of the spring to come.

And amidst these signs of new growth, there is still winter—the bare trees, wet brown leaves underfoot, golden broom straw, the dormant winter grass. There is beauty here in this winter world, too. Some of these trees and plants will be green and blooming in a few short months. And we will begin another cycle of life, death, hibernation, and rebirth.

As I walk down the powerline right-of-way from Gramps’s pond to my front yard, the ground gets wetter and soggier. Puddles of water invite me to step into them. After all, I am wearing my rain boots. I spot another gladiolus pushing its solitary way through the earth—and a giant ant hill growing into an ant mountain beside the rose bush. In the middle of the front yard are two bright yellow dandelions.

Up ahead, my husband stacks newly split wood into the racks to season. Work crews bury fiber optic cable along the side of the road. The mail carrier brings deliveries to the back steps, her tires crunching the gravel. I take the boxes inside and end my walk with a check of my phone and the need to pick up my pen and write.