Half Done

The book is well written and poetic but it doesn’t appeal to me.  I will finish reading it because it is for book club. It is the kind of book I have to take to my reading hideout in the market parking lot and finish as I eat an oversize sandwich on whole wheat with choice of pickle, celery or carrots and drink dark roast coffee. I can’t read this book at home.More to the truth, I won’t read it at home. The afternoon sun will fade. Grey nothing best described as late afternoon surrounds the car and I drive home. It is the way this book is tolerated. In a few days there will be a meeting and we will have a good time as usual for this is the book that has brought us together. A well written, poetic book,complicated and thoughtfully done, it has merit. Historical, educational, sensitive and bluntly graphic with images of sunlight on the feathers of geese and the flight of a terrified child falling into defective net,a flag held by other children,breaking both arms and no one coming to help. It has become a chore and most likely worth finishing to get the full benefit.  My book, which I’ve never written glints in the moonlight. No geese.

Yard Work, Digging Mostly

Keeping me on my toes, the gathering of two family members, a neighbour, my librarian and  her daughters, I went ahead with my night to meet and encourage other community writers.

The sensory games and  creativity ideas were tried. Some poetry, mine and another’s ( a professional) published piece were read. A story about the influences of the neighbour attending the event, upon my writing, was pulled for my stockpile and read in it’s entirety. We ate fruit and dessert squares. Another evening, led by me, encouraging young writers was planned for the summer.

In the meantime, stories and threads of ideas were revealing themselves, The group dynamics were interesting. From the mixture of a very small gathering came ideas of reading with very young children, the trauma of  caring for elderly pets,decluttering household contents and wondering about the unforeseen future, knitting, crochet, tatting, hooked rug making, church yard sales, baking, cooking, reading cookbooks, dealing with children, throwing away blackened pots of burnt spaghetti, recalling the chores of working with father in the barn milking the cows and going to the mill and cleaning the house, despising those awful hooked rugs so heavy to drag from the upstairs bedrooms all the way downstairs to air them and clean them while sister baked, studying French and setting up a writing blog …. one that the mom , the librarian, can’t read because it will be all about her according to one of the young daughters.

At the conclusion of the evening another neighbour arrived. A young mother returning her library books, noticing us finishing up the brownies and the fruit tray, realizing we were a bit over the closing hour at the library. Familiar to me, a neighbour, we often say hello. I knew she was a fellow teaching colleague on maternity leave and an artist. Now I know she writes a blog. From just skimming through some of her blog posts I’ve also discovered that her husband is a poet.

All in all, a successful gathering . A very small community gathering of supportive people just planting the seed and nudging together the warming circle of stories, ideas and creativity.Tending a word garden takes effort and patience and with a sprinkle or two of interest it might even take root.

Uh, Just Give Me Time…

Knowing what I wrote in my last post, about being on the ball and getting things done because the dog was visiting and I had to focus on everything better and the end result being that I felt more inclined to blog and possibly write for my stockpile as well, I seemed to coast through another day and let things happen.

Groceries were bought at 9 am. Who does that? Misleading energy event. Once I got home and unloaded the car and put the milk and eggs in the fridge I had my breakfast, coffee, journal time, read for an hour and fell asleep again. Dog spent quality time with an eleven dollar bone. (Once more, who does that? Buy an eleven dollar bone?)

Later on in the day a few pots of herbs got moved to the back yard and I had a visit with my sister-in-law, drank coffee, went home and peeled potatoes, scrubbed some veggies and overbaked some chicken

. Dog and I spent the evening watching the neighbours go by from the big window. Dog barks at people with dogs because she is brave and strong sitting inside looking out, at people going by with flashlights because they are obviously up to no good and at me because I’m reading quietly rather than giving her a back rub.

Cat stays clear. In hiding. Bribed with expensive succulent cat pate. Waiting. Hoping dog will vapourize.

Dog wants to cuddle but she is a chunk and barely fits on my knee while balancing on the footrest of my recliner. An hour passes. Back rub and soothing messages later, before she tries to nest under my chin , she is encouraged to move her sturdy eighty pounds of bulldog off of me and go for one more outside break before being stuck in her crate for the night.

Outside it is very dark, pitch dark and village rural. Skunks, racoons and possums swagger along the lane. Rustling noises, looming shadows from trees caught in the light from our porch and the threat of garbage cans put out for morning  are thrilling enough for the dog. She willingly makes it a quick trip and nips inside for a good sleep in the crate. Covered up with her kitty screened decorated blanket ( giant brown and white kittens with huge big green eyes) and savouring the last peanut butter treat for the day, she sleeps and I write.

Nothing earth shattering. Poised for inspiration, though.

Muse It or Lose It

What is there about having the dog come to stay for a few days of respite care, or as my son refers to it as holidays, that stirs my desire to blog, yet again? There have been blog bog down periods before and somehow as soon as the dog appears a rattling at the door and skiddering in the hall, the house takes on a new vibe conducive to a variety of projects, those left for a rainy day. Without the dog, the house and all the projects of which I speak so fondly, just exist in their own quiet way , no pressure to complete at any breakneck speed or deadline. However, having the dog here a routine seems to surface and jobs like cleaning, gardening, shopping and other assorted daily tasks need to be done in such a manner as to accommodate the care and needs of said dog. Rarely, does the cat have this effect on me. Indeed, the cat and I have come to an understanding. Food, water, shelter and some quality sleeping time are the basic requirements of cat . There is none of this stick to a routine stuff with the cat. The cat doesn’t care.

There is something very healthy about having the dog here, for holidays. Vitamins and supplements, often forgotten are suddenly ingested as energy to deal with things is a priority. Piles of projects begin to dwindle, oddly enough as I’ve already mentioned…mainly because with the dog here things cannot be left just sitting around waiting for a rainy day or a sudden inclination. For example, half empty paint cans must be removed before a catastrophe happens that would be most regrettable. Laundry might as well be done on time rather than just accumulate until the seasons change. Stuff gets put away, out of reach, out of dog range. Garbage gets carted to the curb exactly on time, thereby avoiding being dumped during a sniffing around episode.

The writing routine, long avoided, set aside, almost forgotten and definitely ignored suddenly skidders in too. Journal writing takes on some streams of thought, to-do lists start appearing on my writing desk, bulletin board and refrigerator. The reading diary gets filled in during the quiet times when the dog is sleeping beside me and I feel more inclined to sit and read all the books that I like to read rather than try to read stuff recommended by others. Finally, late at night with all the shenanigans of the evening play, bone chewing and treat sneaking over for now, with the laundry sounding off it’s finished cycle, and the loaded dishwasher ready to do it’s job, dog covered up in her crate and cat somewhere behind the drapes….I write my blog once more. A good thing, to start again and it will lead to more writing…. the writing project left in a pile, for example.

While Hiding

Dragging furniture to find the spaces to fill

up again

with the assorted Christmas decorations and accumulated fall touches

too early

to discard

turning on an assortment of dim lights for the remote corners but putting the small tree of green , red and gold front and center

to show off

its brightness while hiding

the large cardboard box it came in back in the unused area of the house relegated to shed

and

sitting down in the enveloping velour

now pulled front and center

awkwardly taking up the centre

realizing that the old brown provincial covered in a knit needs to go somewhere because there is too much and through the collection of pots brought in from the storm and winds there walks an ancient

in belted coat and plastic hat with a steady enough step

just as the iron grey sky squints the last of the day

inspiring some sensibility to try and regain the lost strength and ignore the numbness

and

even to smile