There's no one in LJ-land more generous with birthday wishes than ,
and I hope you'll join me in wishing Sharon a wondrous day.
May your birthday and the coming year bring you much love and happiness, Sharon!
(And lots of cake!)
Here's a little Vinca from me to you . . .
As mentioned here and here, I've been using Scrivener to write a first draft
and while I love the program for many reasons,
I got caught up in my chapters being (easily accessible) separate files
and so never printed out anything.
As a result, I got a wee bit confused on plot issues
and came to a screeching halt when I felt overwhelmed by the whole process.
This past weekend I printed out all I'd written and read it again.
Wow.
Hard copies are awesome.
And helpful.
And absolutely vital to the writing process.
So, friends, don't scrimp on your paper usage just because it's better for the planet.
The planet does need our love and care, but so does our mental health. 
© Tracy Abell 2009
Bwak!
What she said!
A little over two weeks ago I shared the sad tale of my old juniper tree,
and today finally summoned the courage to call an arborist.
He just left after telling me (1) the tree will survive and (2) there's nothing to be done
for another year or so except (3) to pray for forgiveness. I thought he meant the tree
forgiving me but realized he meant me forgiving my neighbor.
I feel somewhat better although still cannot look at that old tree without flinching.
And tearing up.
In regards to my stuckness on my work-in-progress, this past weekend I printed out
everything I'd written so far (30k words!) and read it in one sitting. After taking some notes,
I knew I needed to go back and rework some stuff before moving ahead. I'm struggling
with the rewrites but am no longer panicked that fixing stuff will slow my momentum
to the point that I'll never finish the draft.
I will finish this draft! Hear, universe?
As for my web site, nothing's happening there. I still don't know how to proceed.
I guess two out of three ain't bad.
Now, here's a gratuitous squirrel shot: 
1) This is the last weekend before school starts
2) so Wildebeest and Zebu are cramming as much as they can
into these final days of freedom
3) while I try to adjust to the fact I now have a high school senior and sophomore
4) and the fact that I'm no spring chicken and pretty soon will be an even older chicken
left alone in the roost with Zippy
5) which actually doesn't frighten me the way it seems to freak out some people I know
6) because I've always had my own thing going on independent of my kids but, still,
a senior and a sophomore? Really? Me?
photo by Zippy
(As an aside, may I mention how frustrating it is to post on LiveJournal these days? Wonky spacing, etc.)
My heart hurts.
I’m not even sure where to begin with this story
that involves an eccentric old juniper tree and a neighbor.
Short story: neighbor didn’t like eccentric juniper tree
that grew behind my fence in a Dr. Seuss-like fashion,
and over the years advocated for cutting it down because
the not-conventionally-attractive tree interfered with her view.
I defended the tree on the grounds it partially blocked my
view of the enormous new house down the hill but also
stated that I liked the tree because it had character.
Neighbor continued to advocate for removal and last year
I begrudgingly said she could cut off the very top five feet or
so of the droopy, swamp creature-esque tree. Neighbor
did nothing until one night this past week when we had another
conversation about the tree. I repeated that I liked the tree because it had
character and because it blocked the house below, but that she could top it off.
I’m sure you’ve guessed what happened.
On Saturday afternoon, while I was home and completely unaware,
my neighbor came into my yard, went behind the fence and butchered the tree
so that it now just reaches above the fence.
As soon as I walk onto my patio and face downhill, I see the scarred remains jutting over
the fence. Behind it I see the enormous house down below. Then I close my eyes
and see the off-center, funky old juniper that used to provide habitat for birds and squirrels.
I’m crying as I write this.
I feel as if I let down that tree, that I should not have made any assumptions
about how it would be treated by my neighbor.
I wish I could rewind the tape and handle the whole situation differently.
Yesterday while I was writing a letter to my neighbor about the hurt and anger I felt,
Zippy discovered a card from her in our front door.
Neighbor’s card said a tree was being planted in a National Forest in my honor
and also that she’d plant another tree behind the fence if I wished.
She apologized and said she’d never do that again.
My anger is mostly gone but I cannot shake the sadness.
I’m not sure how to move forward.
It feels disrespectful to leave the tree as is but I don’t know if I can cut it down.
Yesterday morning when I stood next to it, crying, a bird flew from the lower branches.
This whole situation has affected my health and I can’t see how it’s ever going to get easier.
Whenever I face that direction I’ll either see where the tree used to be or its mangled remains.
Neither feels like a good choice.
I’ve been neglecting LJ-land so Zoey and I are popping in to see what’s shakin’.
If nothing exciting’s happening make something up in the comments, okay?
Last week we went to Westcliffe where my mother has a small cabin.
A few people sleep outside on the deck but most everyone sleeps in tents.
Zippy and I’ve pitched our tent in the same place for years,
a slightly sloped, rocky spot beneath some pine trees.
I don’t get very good sleep while there and after a few nights of that, I’m exhausted.
So, this year we (um, I) decided we should have tent platforms.
© Tracy Abell 2011
Someone left the phone book out in the rain . . .
image from morguefiles.com
Yo.
Enough with the rain, already!
Oddly enough, I can’t summon the energy to get started.
So for now, I’m basking in the memory of what once was.
What does this remind you of?
© Tracy Abell 2011
Being in one of those bars where you drop the peanut shells on the floor, right?
All this finch needs is a bottle of beer and some twangy, heartbreak song on the jukebox.
Here’s what’s growing on around here (get it? "growing on"?)
This is the largest profusion of clematis blooms ever seen on this patio,
due to the sad demise of the neighbors’ crab apple tree which hung over
Yes, I used the "m" word despite the fact many, many people cannot stand that word.
I like it.
Moist.
It’s fun to say.
Try it.
Moist.
It rained all night and it’s still raining.
This Mourning Dove is on the backboard, preening in the rain.
2) but by that evening all euphoria was gone due to a Wildebeest implosion,
3) and we were forced to sort through the rubble.
I know, I know.
You’re scratching your heads, wondering how this photo translates into a Friday Five
when there are only four people in the picture (Mom, Sister, Me, and the surly Zippy).
photo by Bitsy
Well, sillies, it’s quite simple.
We were in Albuquerque’s Casa Rondena Winery tasting room, partaking of five wine samples.
We couldn’t move around much because there was a wedding about to start outside on the lovely vineyard grounds,
I’ve been AWOL, I know, but am easing back into LJ-Land with the latest creation by Wildebeest & Friends:
Next week, Bob Dylan turns 70 years old.
When Bob turned 50, I bought a bottle of champagne and watched Don’t Look Back
(after calling the Anchorage video store days ahead to put a hold on a copy only to find
It’s an interesting list, in part because the enormity of Dylan’s song catalog boggles the mind.
How to choose?
My mother texted me the other night (yes, she’s 81 and she texts!)
to tell me she was reading Rolling Stone and to ask which was my favorite song.
I said I couldn’t choose just one but that "Hurricane" was the song that caught my attention
when I was 13 years-old, and that I bought the 45 and then wrote out all the lyrics.
The song’s so long it was both Side A and Side B, and somewhere around here I have
those sheets of notebook paper with the hand-printed lyrics.
It was a long process and I remember sitting next to my record player,
lifting the needle to replay parts so I’d catch every word.
"Pistol shots ring out in a barroom night . . ."
Years later when I lived in North Hollywood in a funky old house converted to a triplex,
my artist-downstairs-neighbor was working on a collage and invited me to make one, too.
I went up to my tiny apartment and gathered the Dylan scrapbook I’d created when younger.
Over the years, this collage has hung on various walls in the places I’ve lived,
and more than one person has looked at it and asked, "Who’s the big black dude?"
Nice disguise, but I’m afraid the tail gave you away.
Art is born of the observation and investigation of nature.
~ Cicero
© Tracy Abell 2011
A bird does not sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song.
~ Chinese Proverb
image from morguefile.com
There are so many things we could learn from the birds.
If only we cared to listen.
Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.
~ Confucius
Another Wildebeest & Friends creation:
This one is more open-air than the last.
Discovery consists of seeing what everybody has seen and thinking what nobody has thought.
© Tracy Abell 2011
Szent-Gyorgyi was a physiologist credited with discovering Vitamin C,
© Tracy Abell 2011
Tracy Abell 