On a recent August evening, my writing friend Carol and I hurried into Paulina Springs Books in Sisters, Oregon. We were there to attend a writing workshop by author and poet Joe Wilkins. Earlier that day I had looked through his website and noticed he had grown up in Montana. Then, I was even more eager to go to the workshop, just to be in proximity of a fellow Montanan. The workshop was titled “Layers of Landscape: Harnessing the Power of Place.” To say we were intrigued by the title was an understatement. I’ve been scribbling away about the landscape…
Category: Writing
Six Word Story 1
Golden trumpet, serenade rays of sun. This is the first in what will become a series of six word stories. I will post a photo, video, image, sentence with blank spaces, etc and write a story about it in six words. Then, I look forward to reading your own six word story in the comments box at the bottom of the page. Wow me!
Here We Go!
I am back. A long time away from this space, I know. It seems like my blog follows the arc of the year; active in spring, summer and fall, then hibernates over the winter. Now it is time to emerge and stretch upward in the ever-strengthening sunlight. My Lusitano, Evaristo, and I Even though the blog has been in hibernation for some months, it has been much in my thoughts. I’ve been thinking and doing some work on its evolution, how to move it in a direction that feels sustainable for me. Too, I wish to make it a space…
Impressions ~ Walking I
July 12, 2020 8:53AM. East side of Lone Pine Rd, Crook County, Oregon. On the sidehill of a butte, at the top of a favorite trail. My hair is loose today. I feel witchy. Witches were among the first of the wise women, connected directly to the land. Men and fear turned the word into how it is perceived today. The last quarter of the moon floats high in the southwest sky. A sky-blue and alabaster white translucent pearl. The moon, high in the upper right corner. Almost a forgotten cloud fragment. Above and behind me, the butte is a…
Books & Words II
Childhood Unboxed My left hand held a small leather bound book open across my knee as my pencil transcribed thoughts in fuzzy grey marks. Rustle, rustle, rustle. The pencil spoke to the paper as it skipped along. Not having much choice, the paper agreed to the pencil’s rhetoric. The paper, off-white and lined, fluttered in the breeze. My left hand clamped it down so the pencil could finish a word. I sat on a sun-warmed, charcoal grey, lichen spotted rock on a steep hillside. The hillside was dotted with juniper trees. Bluebirds flitted amongst them. Late afternoon sunlight slanted through…
Books & Words I
My left hand held a small leather bound book open across my knees as my pencil transcribed thoughts in fuzzy grey marks. Rustle, rustle, rustle. The pencil spoke to the paper as it skipped along. Not having much choice, the paper agreed to the pencil’s rhetoric. The paper, off-white and lined, fluttered in the breeze. My left hand clamped it down so the pencil could finish a word. I sat on a sun-warmed, charcoal grey, lichen spotted rock on a steep hillside. The hillside was dotted with juniper trees. Bluebirds flitted amongst them. Late afternoon sunlight slanted through the trees…