An August Fit

Today, another fit. Or maybe a start. I don’t know. I’ve kind of lost track. The other day the thought came unbidden: I’m looking forward to fall. I know. I’m aghast too. But this waiting and hoping, one day of sunshine followed by two more of gray, all the ups and downs and ins and

Green Beans

A mountain of green beans in the kitchen sink invite me to a time of rumination as I fall into a pattern of washing and snapping them into bite-sized pieces. Swish, see, snap, snap, set aside, next. It’s a good time to pray. Tending to vegetables grown from tiny seeds, in awe of the master gardener who

Fits and Starts

Fits and starts: that’s summer this year. A few days ago, I sat in a small darkened community theatre and had the joy of watching my granddaughter perform in William Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing. This Monday morning, I look ahead to a handful of quotidian days before the next summer shift. The ordinariness of picking

Writing Life

I spend all day working on a pivotal chapter in Presences of Absences, condensing a couple of pages into a single paragraph. Papa Hemingway advises us to write “hard and clear”. I spend hours trying to craft such a paragraph. I tweak and tweak again, rearranging words and sentences, and reading the thing out loud.

Morning

It’s just after dawn. The first magical rays of sun have just kissed my little part of the world. I’m back from being out in the yard, barefoot on the cool dewy grass, taking photos. I’d like to show you the magic but I’m not of the mind to open my laptop, download, and process

Retreat Part Deux

I’m slipping back into retreat this morning as my mind shifts back to writer mode. But the green beans I spied in the garden yesterday, when I watered for the first time after a soggy week, nag me. I’m pretty good at filtering out distractions in favour of writing time. But those beans. Dang.