Wordful Wednesday: assorted musings

For years and years, I exercised my writing muscle as I wrote novels for young readers in hopes of publication and did so almost every day until my literary agent dropped me while we were on submission to editors in August of 2024. That split was a deeply traumatizing gut-punch and I immediately stopped writing the second draft of my work-in-progress. Unfortunately, I’d suffered a series of such gut-punches and couldn’t put myself through that process ever again, so I quit. The thought of getting my hopes up again only to be cast aside without thought by someone I’d considered my advocate was too much to bear. It was painful not having my creative outlet but it seemed best for my well-being to stay out of that arena.

Eventually, I couldn’t ignore the creative itch or GRAPPLE which was the manuscript that’d been on submission. I reread then revised it, cutting over 10,000 words in the process, and was so happy being in that mode again! I truly do love me some revision. I’m so freaking proud of that very timely story (friendship story set against the backdrop of a small town divided over the presence of a private prison and proposed expansion of a detention center) and submitted the manuscript to one publisher that accepts unagented submissions. Now I’ve started thinking about another project I started and abandoned years ago. It’s unlike anything I’ve written and I’m kinda-sorta considering revisiting it. I do so love writing middle grade novels. At the same time, I’m also very tired of writing books that are never read by my intended audience. Anyway, I’ll sort through all the feelings and do whatever’s best for me.

Why am I sharing this now? Because earlier this week I struggled big-time to write a 3-minute comment I’d planned to present to city council last night. And that struggle was probably due to the fact that my writing muscle had gotten rusty. Writing for young readers had been such a huge part of my daily life and now I wasn’t doing it. How could I keep in shape?

*smacks forehead*

Hello, maybe you could fully utilize that blog  you call “Another Day On the Planet”?

So here I am, publicly recommitting myself to this space and my writing. As mentioned before, I love reading old posts about stuff I’d completely forgotten. And in that spirit, I’m going to document a few things now before they also slip my mind.

  • I did successfully complete my public comment regarding the unhoused, our shared humanity, my opposition to criminalizing homelessness and forced treatment for substance use, and read it at last night’s city council meeting in a voice that shook because (1) public speaking is hard for me (2) I was flustered from accidentally showing up late and (3) my turn came after two speakers who shared their views in loud and aggressive tones–views that did not match mine–and I was convinced the room was filled with their supporter so it was like being in enemy territory, and for context I’ll add that one comment can be paraphrased as “I was in a basement jail cell during 9/11, one block away from Ground Zero and that’s how I got clean because you have to hit rock bottom to get better and my rock bottom was a block away from Ground Zero and everyone’s recovery has to look exactly like mine!”
  • On Saturday morning I ran 1.75 miles on the Olympic Discovery Trail next to the water, the farthest I’ve run in months (YAY!) as I rehab my right heel, and when I slowed to a walk and looked over at the water I saw a brown furry head looking my way and then it was gone and even though I watched the surface for another minute I didn’t see it again but maybe it was one of the Otterly Magical gang?
  • A few minutes ago I took advantage of the break in rain and walked Emma Jean-Jean around the neighborhood where she enjoyed all the aromas while I enjoyed the rain-scrubbed air and rescued four earthworms from the streets.
  • Right after that last worm rescue we saw two dapper crows walking and poking around a neighbor’s yard and I wondered if crows eat worms, and after a brief search of the interwebs upon our return I can confirm that YES, crows do eat earthworms.

One last thing to share: hellebore plants in the front yard. The photo on the left was taken after today’s walk and the other from a couple weeks ago is the more common representation of these plants which like to hide their faces which mean’s today’s sighting is a gift, and that visibility is due to the fence’s support. All hail the hog wire!

             

 

Garden magic

Yesterday while out working in the magical garden we inherited, I came across this:

July 14, 2025

As is the case with many plants in this new-to-me garden planted by someone else, I have no idea what it’s called. Until I make a formal identification, I’m calling it the “Fruit Hat.”

Who am I kidding? I’ll probably call it Fruit Hat no matter it’s proper name.

Warm imagery

This morning my phone told me it was –10 degrees outside which would explain the frost and ice on the insides of the bedroom window. It eventually got a little warmer, but was still so cold that when Zippy went out for a few minutes to shovel, he lost feeling in his fingers. I haven’t gone outside today and am exceedingly grateful I had the luxury to make that decision.

In case you’re also enduring brutally cold temperatures, here’s a photo from July 2020 when I crawled beneath the day lilies as they reached for the warm, blue sky:

I look forward to seeing those cheery flowers again.

Update: treading lightly

After another burst of pain earlier this week, I finally made an appointment to have my finger checked out. Today, the orthopedic doctor was pleased the tendon seems stable and believes the pain is only due to inflammation that can’t settle down. She offered a steroid injection and, while I’m no fan of sharp needles, I said YES, PLEASE!

We’re hoping that shot is a one-off and that my left hand will fully recover. I’ve currently got my two fingers taped together and will do so for the next few days, but then the tape comes off and I (hopefully) will resume my regularly scheduled life and activities (that will include gardening!)

May 22, 2020

Until then, I’m going to follow the lead of this butterfly and tread lightly.

Sunday Confessional: not this time

It’s good I have photographic proof of flowers that bloomed in my garden over the past two Mays, because they’ll have a hard time showing up this year in my weed and grass-choked beds.

May 2, 2020

For the past month or so, I’ve either had to wear a splint on my left-hand ring finger or tape that finger to the middle finger in order to immobilize it. I strained the tendons badly (at least, that’s what I’m guessing) while trying to rotate our compost tumbler that sits on casters (the tumbler we built in order for me to know how to write a how-to book for young readers)  and so haven’t done any bed clean-up in front this spring. One-handed gardening is above my pay grade.

As we returned from a walk just now, I averted my gaze from our front yard. Poor little perennials, struggling to push through the dead and mess I can’t remove. Zippy has no time or energy for yard work because he’s working hard to finish the van build and the quotes we received from clean-up businesses were very high, so the mess will remain.

Lucky for me, vinca is a hardy little plant.

May 7, 2021

It always finds a way to make its presence known.

Bee calm

A little reminder to focus on the tiny, intricate miracles all around us.

September 12, 2020

This sedum isn’t blooming right now and I doubt many bees are currently buzzing in my yard, but . . .  someday soon.  In the meanwhile, I can gaze upon this image and will my mind and system into calm. *deep breaths* Maybe it can do the same for you. 💚

Oh, happy day

I won’t be forced to commit a crime against the new neighbors who let their Hummer idle for a minimum of ten minutes every weekday morning!

Day lilies exploding like fireworks. July 3, 2020

Their kids just came over to sell us chocolate for a school fundraiser and in the ensuring conversation with their dad, we learned they’re only renting that house for two months. Hooray!

I can handle two months of roaring, rumbling, exhaust-spewing activity across the street. I think. And if not, I will initiate a conversation. That conversation may or may not be well-received, but it’s not gonna be a forever kind of relationship, so . . . oh well.

Right now I’m just celebrating the fact I won’t always live across the street from people who believe it makes sense to drive their kids to school in a gas-guzzling assault vehicle. Oh, happy day.

Sunday Confessional: lost and found

Today I took advantage of the last day of warm weather before the coming week of frigid temperatures and spent time outside cleaning flower beds. The last several years I’ve kinda been on a gardening strike and let things run wild. That laziness plus the neighbors’ enormous, beautiful pine trees that loom over our yard, distributing tons of boughs, needles, and pine cones, resulted in quite the mess.

In fact, as I excavated the debris I came across something I’d temporarily forgotten was there: our cat Lebowski‘s grave marker. I’d tried in vain to locate it in January when Zebu was here. Even though I knew where it was, I couldn’t find it beneath the layers of needles and cones. That saddened and made me feel a bit disloyal to my feline friend. So when my hand brushed against the slab of flagstone this afternoon, I experienced a moment of confusion followed by a flood of memories.

Lebowski was a wonderful cat.

The Dude in June of 2009

This photo is a bit misleading because he was an indoor cat although I let him outside with me now and again for supervised outings (and he spent his final months outside with me as much as possible). What isn’t misleading about this photo is that The Dude was a very large fellow.

I’m grateful to have located his grave again. Unfortunately, the words and dates we’d inscribed on the flagstone have worn away, but the marker is now in full sight and I intend to keep it that way. In honor of our magnificent Lebowski, temporarily lost and now found again.

Just because

When everything feels cruel and horrific, I lean on natural beauty. This photo isn’t especially special, but gazing upon these coneflowers that bloomed in my garden brings me a moment of inner peace.

July 16, 2020

Maybe it can do the same for you.

Now you sedum, now you don’t

It’s gray and gloomy today, belying the unseasonably warm weather (which refuses to give us a drop of much-needed moisture!), so I went in search of a cheery image to brighten the day. I selected a photo of sedum that’d bloomed in the front yard last summer.

June 10, 2021

I then went in search of a quote to accompany my photo, but was unsuccessful. Instead, I learned that sedum roofs are quite popular in other parts of the world. Sedum has a very shallow root system and not only that, “The metabolism of Sedum differs from other plants. At night, carbon dioxide is absorbed through the stomata and converted into malic acid. During the day, under the influence of sunlight, the malic acid is decomposed and photosynthesis takes place. The stomata in the leaves are only open at night. During the hot and dry day, moisture loss is minimized.” How cool is that?! And how beautiful is this roof?

Image found here

My new dream is to live in a little cottage covered by a sedum roof.

Late bloomer

I recently bemoaned the lack of blooming iris in my gardens, wondering how others in the neighborhood managed their bumper crops of iris. I then realized I wasn’t alone. Yes, there were a couple gardens absolutely filled with iris, but the majority of us had clumps of iris in which only one or two stalks had buds/blooms. Then I remembered our early freeze last fall and the unusual amounts of moisture this spring. Maybe it wasn’t negligent gardening practices that led to my dearth of iris blooms? Whatever the reason, I’m grateful for this flower.

June 10, 2021

Solidarity with late bloomers, yo!

Garden variety envy

May 24, 2021

I’m starting to see iris in full bloom around the neighborhood. One home has two banks of deep purple irises which are absolutely stunning and another front yard is filled with white iris blooming.

My garden? A grand total of four potential iris blooms in the front and back gardens. What the hell? (I’m so grumpy I’m not even going to attempt taking another photo that at least pretends to be in focus).

And the indignities don’t end with the iris. I passed a yard today that was ablaze with blooming allium. I just checked on my plants and this is what’s happening here:

One puny, non-spherical bloom. Not only that, it’s really short. Again, what the hell?

Here comes the sun

It’s gray and gloomy out my window, as it’s been for much of the past several days. But I just finished writing for the day and am treating myself to these cheery tulips which warm my soul. They can almost pass for a row of little, petaled suns.

May 11, 2021

Here’s hoping for blue skies tomorrow, even if only for a few minutes. Until then, I have my sunshine-y tulips.

Conflicted

I’ve been struggling mightily with a family-of-origin issue and a while back reached out to the therapist I’d worked with years ago. Her client roster was full so I was put on a wait-list. Well, the wait is over. I’m both grateful and anxious she can now fit me into her schedule. My first appointment is in a few minutes and my insides are fluttering.

September 12, 2020

I know I need to do the work in order to move ahead. That doesn’t stop me from wishing for a magic wand that could make everything all better.

Echinacea for what ails me

You probably know that echinacea and its antioxidants are good for our physical health. It’s a widely-used herb with many applications.

Purple Coneflower aka echinacea. July 16, 2020.

What you might not know is that these vibrant plants are also what the doctor prescribes for cold, gray days. Guess you could say that echinacea is also an antigloom.

You heard it here first.

Today is gray but spring’s on the way

I miss the bees and am looking forward to when they return to perform their vital work in my yard. Here’s a little sample of what’s in store for the coming months:

August 4, 2020

Yesterday (March 7!), Zippy removed the lights from the locust tree in our front yard. We’d stopped turning them on several weeks ago but left them wrapped around the trunk. I could lie and say it was because the bulbs provided bits of much-needed color in the brown/gray landscape. Really, it’s because we procrastinate. Either way, now that the holiday lights are gone, I’m ready for spring. Bring on the bees and blooms!

Just Mercy

It’s a gray day here and the high will be 23 degrees colder than yesterday.

Purple Coneflowers. July 16, 2020

I’m beneath a blanket on the couch, reading Bryan Stevenson’s JUST MERCY: A Story of Justice and Redemption. It began as research for my work-in-progress, but I’m grateful my project brought me to this book. It’s fierce and tender, all at once. Both rage-inducing and strangely calming** in its depiction of humanity at its worst and best.

Change is possible. Spring is on its way.  And today, I am grateful for both those truths.

(** ETA when I wrote about the calming aspect of this book, I was in opening chapters. Having read for much of day, I have to admit there’s more content that enrages rather than soothes. We are a messed up and deeply racist society.)

 

Reverie

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee.
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.   ~ Emily Dickinson

July 18, 2019

While this photo is of a bee and lavender (not clover) in my yard (rather than the prairie), the image still induces a reverie.