Been Thinking About: Spring and Starting Over

Spring is here and I am enjoying how every few days there are flowers popping up in my flower beds. Some are returning from previous years and others are new from last fall’s planting. Either way, I smile as I see how much they grow. My yard is slowly becoming a great source of joy and pride for me.

The song birds are also busy courting, fighting, defending, and creating families. It is enjoyable to watch and listen to them. I spotted my first hummingbird this evening. It darted away before I could determine whether it was a male or female, but it was interested in the feeder I just hung two days ago.

Along some of my dog walking routes I am finding interesting flora and fauna to stop and study. This maple stump was particularly fascinating.

Maples along walking route

Doubtlessly once upon a time this was a fine big maple tree, tall and proud. Many years ago it came down and the stump has rotted away and been consumed by moss and yearly dead-fall leaves. It’s a sad and poignant reminder of how one day we will all fall.

However, upon closer inspection, I spotted two tiny maple tree saplings sprouting up from within. Determined to not let the original tree completely die away, they are making the valiant effort to start over.

I have a maple tree in my yard that is doing the same thing. The twin saplings are almost three feet tall now and a thatch of hostas nestle in the center of the old stump. I treasure these old tree stumps and the growth coming forth.

Flower bed in my yard

At another walking location, I discovered this fern slowly unfurling and preparing for another growing season. It seems to be preforming a delicate ballet as it steadily stretches for the sun, seemingly in no hurry to reach its goal.

Fern in ballet dance of unfurling.

And now I shall honor spring by starting over again. Last night I gave my two-week notice at a job I’ve held for 10 years. Not all 10 years have been pleasant. Some years have been a downright challenge. I’ve learned a lot about the job, people, life, and myself. And now–finally!–it is time to start over somewhere and somehow else.  It’s scary and it’s good. There is a sense of relief and excitement in the air, just like when the first bits of green perk up through the dirt to feel the sunshine and the first flowers spread their colorful blooms to the springtime breeze.

I snapped these photos of fallen dogwood petals, because they seemed so perfect when they fell. The first one makes a lovely contrast with the pure white petal against the black of the asphalt. The second looks more natural. A white blossom  lying contently against the green grass. The third is the prettiest I think. Nestled under the still-yet-to-bloom roses, and landed on a bed of brown mulch, it makes such a natural scene.

Dogwood petals

And they all serve to remind me that we may not have a choice how or when we fall or start over, but we do have a choice how we react to it.  Our new beginnings. The dogwood blooms will wither or blow away soon, but we are capable of so much more. Our first big step is only the beginning.

 

Read Full Post »

Been thinking about…where we came from

I sometimes pet sit. One of the dogs I walk takes us through a moss-lined, wooded path under a canopy of green trees and climbing vines. A stream runs alongside. Ahead, near the wooden footbridge, slick with moss, I can hear racing water. Because the dog I walk is a hound, we frequently pause so he can conduct in-depth sniffs of particular odors. This gives me time to notice and enjoy to flowers, ferns, plants, orange-capped mushrooms and small wildlife. I see ducks, squirrels and untold numbers of birds. And insects beyond number.

Today I glanced back to where we’d come. It was a pretty view. Green moss rolled out like a carpet. Trees reached out, touching branches to form an arch. Ferns and flowers made countless bouquets and fallen flower petals formed a white trail, stark against the green. It made me want to go back that way instead of crossing the bridge to the road, like we normally do. I knew what was back there and it was pleasant.

And the whole event, which lasted maybe two minutes before the hound was done sniffing and investigating, got me to thinking. As writers, is it important to stop and think about where we’ve come from? At least once in a while?

 

Only we can tell about the path we’ve been on, first the road to publication and our journey since. We know how hard or easy it was, how long it took, how pretty of an experience or how painful and terrible. Knowing this, having the memories fixed in our minds, we tend to concentrate on the trail ahead.

Where do we want to see ourselves? Like the dog and I, we must cross the bridge and trudge up the road to reach his driveway and ultimately home. He has a bone and water waiting for him.  As a writer, I know where I want to me by the end of this year and where I hope to be five-ten and twenty years from now. I have a plan — a footbridge and road– to get me there.

However, as I reflected today, it might be wise to include some reflective study in that plan. Once in a while, I should pause on my writing journey and look back at where I came from. The awkward first starts, the endless queries and just as endless rejections, the first few acceptances. The high of the first time seeing my name in print. The author events, workshops, practice of my craft, networking and the people I have met, seeing my book on a library shelf for the first time, and the list goes on. All the great, wonderful, exhilarating and all the sad, heart-breaking and bad things that have made me the writer I am today.

And in two years or five years I will be a different writer then I am today.

Read Full Post »

Evolution of a blog

In a few months my blog will turn five. I can hardly believe it. Just like I can hardly believe it’s already 2016. As I was taking the calendars down last night, I considered the fact it didn’t seem that long ago I put them up. And now I’ve turned their pages twelve times. I’m sure a few of you can relate.

And that got me to thinking about this blog. It hardly seems possible I started it, albeit very reluctantly, back in May of 2011. I had very little knowledge of what a blog really was, let alone the purpose of creating one. Yet I had been told if I wanted to be a serious writer, I needed one. So voila, Summersrye was created. Had I known then what I know now, I’d have skipped the nickname thing and just used my proper name. But I like Rye, and not knowing any better, it seemed acceptable. Honestly, I don’t recall how I ended up at WordPress. It might have just been the first blog site that popped up when I plugged in a Google search.

I went through recently to see what kind of posts I’ve written and the transformation this blog has undergone. The results sort of surprised me. My first post was May 11, 2011, called “Starting out”. That was pretty much it for 2011. In 2012 there were a whole 17 posts. The content changed directions twice. First I was going to take a non-fiction manuscript and blog it piece by piece. Feedback was nil. I even sent out a post asking “Am I doing this right?” of which I got one response back. Okay, at least someone out there in cyber world was aware I was blogging.

Then I got the contract for my first book, “Whispers in her Heart”, the book that would forever change my life. I was going to be a published author. Time to get really serious about this blogging thing. Right? My posts changed from the random and non-fiction snippets to lots of “Whispers” stuff.

 

 

2013 I posted about 48 times, (give or take one) I was learning book promotion and it showed. I started putting in progress on edits and cover creation as well as teasers for “Whispers”, and a few pictures of my first book signings. I included poetry and shared life happenings. I opened up just a little, trying to remember if anyone was reading this, they were a real person on the other end of the computer screen. I shared photos of my pets, who are part of my life. I shared personal reflections and works in progress.

2014 I continued sharing anecdotes and photos of my pets. I was now reading other people’s books and trying my hand at posting my reviews. I was following other blogs and re posting things I found interesting. Now I had a few books out and was regularly sharing status and updates on “Whispers”, “Shimmers of Stardust”, and “When Clouds Gather”. I posted more times than ever before.

 

 

2015 was much the same. Book reviews. Pet anecdotes. Personal situations. Personal reflections. I was getting pretty personal this year. My family of books was growing. Now we added “Chasing the Painted Skies” and “Sizzle in the Snow” Anthology plus more works in progress and two more slated for 2016. I had people contact me asking if I would please read and review their books. I added the new feature somewhere along the way of hosting authors, interviewing them and talking about their books. In exchange, I was usually hosted on their blogs. Giveaways were another new feature in 2015.

All in all, not bad for a kid who few thought would ever make a writer. I recall hiding in my closet, pounding away on an old manual typewriter I bought at a garage sale. I baby sat so I had money for paper, notepads, and pens. Finally my mother gave me an electric typewriter for either my birthday or Christmas when I was around twelve. To have access to the electric outlet, I had to move out of the closet and into first my bedroom and then a corner of the long harvest table situated in the living room. I guess she wanted to see her daughter once in a while.

 

So while looking back, I also want to look forward. What do I want this blog to accomplish in our brand new 2016? Well, I want it to be a communication point. First, I want to be able to share news with readers about new books, giveaways and anything else share-worthy. I want to continue having others from other houses on my blog, sharing news about their exciting new releases. Bonus if they offer giveaways too. I want to grow the book reviews. In fact, I just finished a sassy little story last night and will be posting a review this weekend. And I have that author scheduled to be hosted on the blog in a few weeks.

Of course I want to share stories and pictures of my zany pets. They are the world to me, as many pet owners will testify. I’d be tickled if readers shared their wonderful pet pictures. I will also continue to share personal reflections and observations. Sometimes life gets rough or crazy and it’s nice to talk about it on a blog. It may not fix it, but it makes handling it a little easier. I follow a few blogs of people who do that very well. I’ll probably go back to posting some of the poetry from time to time and maybe some short flash fiction or sample chapters. That has been in the back of my mind for a while too.

 

 

 

 

 

The end result, I want 2016 to be a year of growth and connection both for this blog and my writing career.

Read Full Post »

Finally, a new chapter

My bags are packed, a cat or two are probably packed in the bags. They’re in the boxes for sure since I can’t keep them out of the boxes. Or baskets. Or my way.

But…. that’s okay, because….

…it’s almost here, closer than Halloween actually. Closing date is set, need a confirmation for  a time. Moving plans are finalized. (Just about…about 98% firmed up) So it’s official. In a few days, I will be a homeowner… my first ‘mine only’ ownership, eleven years post-divorce. Can you just hear that giant sigh?

The gap is also rapidly closing (no pun intended, well, maybe) between my next book— When Clouds Gather– goes from an endless stack of edits and re-writes to a final, completed book.

So in the meantime, here is a peek at the new humble abode where Taz, the furr-kids and I shall soon be calling home. Next I’ll share a bit about the new book, once I have that date set in wet concrete.

Exterior. Cute, cute, cute, lots of personality and ageless charm.

 New writing room

 

Read Full Post »

Turning the Page

 

Sometimes those choices are not so clear. I had thought I was closing one book, turns out I am merely turning the page for now.  The house I planned to buy will not work out, so the great search continues, much like Ahab after his whale (Moby Dick)  In the meantime, I will be content to turn the page instead.

I can turn the page on the calendar in just a few days. I can turn the page on my feelings and emotions as I slowly pack the house and stare at the empty shelves. I can turn the page in my life as the chapter of my time here at this location comes to an end and a new chapter looms ahead. I don’t know exactly when, but it will happen that is good enough for me.

So I have to question, did this chapter end satisfying enough? Well, yes and  no. Further analysis would be required to determine what ratio they measured out to be, but I harbor no regrets for the time spent on this page. I just acknowledge it is time to close the book.

Pages, chapters, books…. what does it all come down to? As a writer, these words take on dual meanings. We think of them metaphorically and literally. When the pages turn in our book–ones we create–are the readers as pleased as we were by the end result? Ditto for metaphoric closures in life situations.  Like mine.

So what do pages of events, chapters of years and books of lives all equal to when compared to pages of scenes, chapters of characters and books of stories?

Read Full Post »

Journey

Lately I feel I have been on a journey of sorts. A prodding to step out from the norm and known into something new and different. I am reminded of the quote, source unknown, that reads: Some lessons are best learned through trials and understood through perspective. It might have been my profound wisdom but honestly, I don’t recall.

For a number of years I have been content, and perhaps have even grown complacent, in my dwelling. I had a plan, to remain and save funds and eventually leave when I had what I considered to be adequate funds to go on to the next step in my plan, or journey.

Well, the trouble with Plan A is it seldom works out like we thought it should have. So we move on to Plan B or Plan G or sometimes even Plan N. That is  the Journey. Up those steps to the unknown. With a healthy mix of curiousness and trepidation, we begin our ascent up, looking up, peeking behind us, wondering both what does lie ahead and what are we leaving behind.

So my Plan A has recently been crushed and my hand forced into the next step. Well before I was ready. But I know what I have to do and why I have to do it. So this week I placed an offer on a different house and wait anxiously on return word. Somehow, regardless what the answer is, I will have taken another step up those stairs on my journey. There is a certain sense of satisfaction that comes with that knowledge. Is that learning through trials? I’m not sure.

In just a few days, my next book goes live into the virtual world. Nervous? Sure I am. Having twins is hard. I barely have time and thought for one book, let alone two. But that is part of the journey too, is it not?  There is a sense of validation that comes with this though, and I suspect it has to do with perspective.

So as I wait for word on my offer on a house, and the final few days slide by before release date, I dream of paint schemes and think of impressed readers. Soon enough the holidays will enter my busy world too. This year will fall away and  a new one will open up, a new phase of this journey of life. And I will take a few more steps up to see what is really waiting at the top of our trek.

 

Read Full Post »

New life–or starting again

I spotted this tiny maple tree shoot growing up from where a maple tree had been cut down. The tree was removed perhaps one or two years ago and I just discovered the fledgling shoot yesterday. It made me very happy as I stood there, thinking about it.

It tells me we have the ability to start life over when our original lives are in one way or another greatly altered. I spend a lot of time feeling like things are frequently changing in my life. Sometimes if is good change and sometimes not so much. Many times I lack the heart, strength or desire to begin again in whatever capacity I need to. I don’t want to have to pick up the remaining pieces and move on, especially if it requires learning new methods or changing comfortable old ones.

But here is this little tree. The original lovely tree had been removed, ground up for mulch. The site has been barren and void of life. Now, a brave shoot has gathered itself together to push up through the dirt and mulch and reach for the sunshine. It is trying its best to begin again.

What fate has in store I don’t know. It might get pulverized by a lawn mover or it might grow to great heights. Either way, it is trying and that is the lesson I need to take from this scene and carry with me when I feel like the remaining dead stump. There is still a spark of life left inside me that wants to reach up and grow and begin again.

Read Full Post »

Time Marches On

I had moved from the north to the south in 2004. For some reason, I was thinking of this move today.The van on loan from my home church resembled Noah’s Ark. Literally. Wally my plecto (big 16 inch ugly fish) and Bruce (14 inch shark) traveled in watery totes with battery-powered air supply. Their large aquarium  was nestled safely among my few belongings.

I had three cats–Sebastian, Kirbie Leigh and Pepper-who were all too advanced in age to be left behind. Sebastian and Kirbie had been with me long before my failed marriage had started. They were to be with me to the bitter end. I had a rescue rabbit–Jade–riding in his big bunny cage, munching hay. Taz, my blue and gold Macaw rode shotgun on the back of my passenger seat. Sharing hip space between the front seats were my last two remaining collies, Kip and Riley James. On the dashboard, looking like a stuffed bubble head toy was my Papillion, Scrapper. The only one missing was my horse. He was being cared for by someone and I would return for him in a few weeks.

I had managed to fit a few suitcases and boxes in for my stuff, but most the van space was indeed devoted to the pets and their stuff. It was much like traveling with a baby or toddler, nine times over. For about 850 miles. I am glad to say they all handled it very well. I do recall Taz got a little bored around southern Ohio so he and Pepper swapped places for a few a short while. And the last few miles to our new home the collies started growling and snapping at one another but they were tired and hungry and cramped so I understood.

So we all survived the journey, we settled in and blossomed where we were now planted in our new home, new region, new everything. And it occurred to me today that ten years have gone by since that time. Wally and Bruce– the fish I could not bear to part with–both died within a few years of fishy infections. I lost Sebastian and Kirbie Leigh within the first year, a scant thirteen days apart. Kip and Riley James were both passed on by 2010. Scrapper was let go just this year at the age of 17. Jade the bunny died within a couple years. Even my horse had to go on.

Of the original Noah’s Ark, only Taz and Pepper remain. Taz is 21 and Pepper is 18. The clock has started on Pepper’s countdown. Taz is expected to hopefully outlive me and everyone reading this post.  Maybe in 50 to 80 years, someone will read my journals and these blog entries and marvel at his travels.

So today I was taking a break, and I happened to realize who was chilling with me–Whymzie, Kryshnah and Muldoone. Just so happened it was these three. These are the three kitties I adopted shortly after moving to the south. Two were kittens and one was around a year old. And now all are ‘young’ seniors themselves. That was a scary revelation today. And finally there is the newest members of my group–Aspen who is about a year and her baby, Avery Faith, who is roughly 5 months old.

I see a cycle and I see time marching on. I do have new sharks, Zechariah and Malachi. They are still young, neither one not quite reaching a foot long yet. No dogs and no bunnies and no horses any more. The desire is certainly there, the time is not right. So I heed to the practicality of time over heart.

Time is such an odd and abstract creature. Unshakable, unchangeable, uncontrollable. It only marches onward, but our memories can take us backward. Today I think of my personal little Ark, full of pets who I wanted to have with me to begin a new life together. Isn’t it odd how choices and time often travel together?

Read Full Post »