Friday, September 14, 2012

end of summer...

  Oh, the end of summer. So bittersweet. The minute the weather changed it begins to feel all too Dickensian (as in the squalor and I imagine chilly coldness of...)in our drafty house. Time to change the filters of the heater and cover all the cracks in the windows. Time to put up more applesauce and jam. This Sunday my dear friends and I are having a Sunday supper, bake a thon and pie put up. The trees in their yard are raining plums & apples. We're making a few pies to actually cook and eat but we're also going to make 4 or more pies each to be stored in the freezer in my basement.

 These little plums are so sweet and perfect. We're making plum jam today.
 beautiful pink prairie coneflower/echinacea!
 tiny pies made from odds and ends collected in our neighborhood... and from berries we picked (from our freezer).
 the last of summer twilight strolls.
 cat naps on the new couch.
 final pool party stripe town!
 flora lined streets. bees bees bees everywhere. And next spring we will have ours! I cannot wait to work with them, so sweet and magical and determined on their one goal... I love those bees!
   And with all my heart, I (we) love goats! These little ones were at the harvest festival and they were the sweetest and had the lovliest ice blue eyes. Can't wait till the day we can have our own property with plenty of goat friends (and horses and sheep and...). soon, it's coming.
   These last few months have brought a renewed focus on my goal, finishing "The Book" and getting it out there. I refuse to indulge in romance and the distraction (as appealing as it sounds, to the frivolous side of me...) of a new relationship. All that matters, right now, is this. writing, research, editing, writing,.. I have been writing every day and it feels so right. A return to the self I have always known was in there but got buried away inside of me cuz I was too busy running from myself and fearing not being good enough/failing. Now, I just write. Anything and everything. So many ideas 7 or 8 different books worth. And where the inspiration takes me is sometimes so very stunning and beautiful. I am always full of wonder at the shape and life a book/story begins to take once you actually start to write it. It lives and breathes and becomes it's own, often entirely different, thing. The book begins as a fire in my mind and blazes into the most surprising creature as it starts to thrive.
  I got this tattoo on my arm when I was 25. It reads:

"I've found my line-from now on this comes first, this is my immediate duty, without this I am nothing."

F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote in his memoirs that he wished he had said that to himself after he finished writing "the Great Gatsby". The moment that I got the tattoo, I felt that it meant something to me and then I pretty much ignored it for the next 8 years or so... Getting lost in the currents of dramatic relationships and life... But, hearing it,  being constantly reminded of it, every time a stranger reads my arm (it happen A LOT), but now, oh how I feel it, more than ever. I get it. Again, and I'm holding it close and writing writing writing. xo m

1 comment:

  1. what a beautiful tattoo and reminder, thanks for the inspiration. xo


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