Back to Work

Since it's officially too cold outside to be lolling around in the hammock or the kayak or on the swing, it's a good day to return to the work-in-progress.

The book that I finished this spring (THE GREAT UNEXPECTED - out next fall) has a wider canvas than the one I'm working on now.  It seems to go like that: a longer book with many scenes is often followed by a book that is more spare and condensed.

I'm looking at these ducks on the lake, the simplicity of that image.  That's the sort of thing that is appealing right now.

Back to it . . .

Mom

Thinking of my mom today, on her birthday.

She was about 20 years old here.

Autumn 100%

It's one of those perfect autumn days here on Lake Chautauqua in western New York.

After two weeks of gray skies and wild winds, sun!

The leaves are just past peak, with more on the ground than on the branches.

Get out the rakes.

Squirrels and chipmunks are busy.

Time to get serious about storing those nuts.

Have to stop for lunch, right?

Love the shagbark hickories . . .

and the geraniums still blooming . . .

And when I come inside

it may not be possible

to write something chilly or harsh

because all the day's bounty

will fill up the room.

If I have a sad or wicked scene to write

it will have to wait

for a gloomier day.

You know?

Attack of the Kittens

Look what we noticed under our deck this morning (above).

It crawled out, followed by two more kittens.

I'm allergic to cats, but we petted them.

How could we not?

Bigga mistake!

We couldn't leave.

They crawled up our legs.

Finally, we pried ourselves away and fled inside.

Heard mewmewmewmewmewmewmewmewmew.

Mewmewmewmewmewmew.

They climbed to the top of the screen door

and

then

fell

off.

They climbed back up.

We hid.

It was hard, but I'm very allergic.

Really.

But they were prepared to wait us out.

Two of them had a nap right near the door.

We could not leave the house. Trapped by cute kittens.

P. S. Update: The mother cat came to the rescue, at least temporarily. She lured the kittens back under the deck by dangling

 a chipmunk

from her mouth.

A cute

 little

 baby

 chipmunk.

It is very hard to write with all this drama going on right outside our door.

Where do you get your ideas?

The question I am most often asked is, "Where do you get your ideas?"

The seeds for ideas are everywhere: in everything you see and hear and touch and feel. Combine this seed with that seed, and off you go.

Above might look like "a bigga mess" on the deck.

You look closer and you see nuts.

  You kneel down and look closely at one of those nuts:

Pretty interesting thing, that little nut.  Wonder what's inside?

Chop it open.  Huh.  Who might want that nut?

Ah, my nosy friend, the squirrel.

And your mind is off and running. Where is she taking that nut? What does her home look like? Does she have a family?

No, I don't normally write about squirrels, but I get my story ideas the same way.  That crowd of people over there - look at that one boy - look more closely - what's in his hand? - where is he going? - who are his friends? - what's bothering him?

Off you go . . .

Golden Grove Unleaving

Yesterday: this golden umbrella overhead.

Today: vile wind and rain, throttling the branches.

Bye, bye, leaves.

Characters: the Grandma

My husband gave me this wooden figure (I call her 'Knitting Grandma') for my birthday this year. She stands about seven inches high and I love the detail: her expressive face, her wire glasses and metal knitting needles, the folds and pattern on the apron, the tiny flower dots on her headscarf, the hunch of her shoulders, the flat black slipper shoes. She has taken on a life of her own in our kitchen, watching benevolently over her territory.

Someone recently pointed out to me that each of my books contains at least one benevolent older figure (not always a grandparent figure, sometimes an aunt or teacher or parent), and though I wasn't conscious of that prevalence, it seems fitting. I had many older, benevolent people in my life when I was young.

Did you?