still hot
Four dripping children
At the edge of still water
Where sunlight gathers
So, the Wednesday journal hasn’t been working out for me. Oh well. I did manage to send off a story this morning. And I fixed up my resume. I’m sending it out for this office assistant Job…they ask for experience in microsoft word, outlook, excel – good computer skills, excellent phone manner, well organized, perfect for the stay at home parent who is looking to get back into the office field. (I guess that’s me minus the well-organized part.) I can’t organize my sock drawer. But I’ll just keep that little part a secret. I am also looking to take two evening courses at one of the universities here this fall. Creative Writing and the Modern in Literature (it says they look at James Joyce and Virginia Woolf and I would enjoy knowing more about those two.) No, I haven’t finished The Waves yet. I like it but the language is so rich I can only digest it in small amounts at a time. It was the same with To the Lighthouse. I feel like I am in a funnel when I read her stuff. Starting off on this wide brim and twirling down until it all finally comes together. However, I started The Catcher in the Rye and so love it. One of those books you don’t want to put down. I don’t know why I hadn’t read it before now? Still hot! I think I seen Erin all of five minutes yesterday. She stopped in to exchange her shopping bag for a beach bag and went off to the public pool with her friends. Some days she startles me with how grown up she is getting. She has this quiet maturity and graceful way about her, which makes me feel hopeful that she will continue to make good choices. No more apron strings for Erin. Makes me sad and happy at the same time.
red 
white rose
summer
The girls have one day left of school. Well technically two but Erin is taking the day off to go to the mall today. She will pick up her report card tomorrow. Monica has a beach day with her class. It is only 8 am and the day has already heated up considerably. I have my trusted little fan that is blowing warm air at me but I would love some true relief from this heat. Greg’s parents left yesterday to go home. I hope they had a nice stay. I think they did? We’ve decided to leave here on the eight to go back east and will only be staying two weeks this year but I am sure we’ll make the best of those two weeks. We have lucked in again and will be staying near the water for half of our stay. This stretch of beach is secluded and the water is wonderful and you only have to walk out about twenty feet before it drops right off. And then there are the sunsets and of course family. I have always been in love with the place but last year my visit home was so perfect that I have been waiting an entire year to feel all that again. Of course it can’t be as lovely as last year, now that Sandy is gone but in some ways I think I need this trip back east more than I ever have. My girls are all city and growing up fast and both now feel two weeks is long enough in the Wilds of New Brunswick. I can’t get over that sometimes how completely opposite their childhood is to the one I experienced. Mine was fields and shoreline and ponies and following the railroad tracks back to the big damn to swim in leech-infested waters. Theirs is crowded public pools, subway trips to the malls, playing man hunt on the streets outside our home and in the alleys and the occasional trip to the amusement parks, zoo and movie theatres. Sometimes I feel I cheated them out of that “Stand by Me” childhood I had _thinking they would be as excited as I am about returning east every year to experience the great outdoors but they feel a month is far too long to be away from the city and their friends and I’m happy they love where they are from as much as I love where I started from.
Maybe it has nothing to do with place but with childhood and their childhood is here.
But last year, the trip back home was so wonderful because I did get to experience a taste of childhood again through a series of little things. Playing beach volleyball one afternoon with my brothers and sisters all of us carrying on like we were still teenagers, taking a fishing boat out on the river and diving off the side of it also with my brothers and sisters and spouses and nieces and nephews, finally getting the courage to jump off the wharf that I had never been able to do as a child, spotting a doe and her baby on the shore and for a moment having it take my breath away, taking a road trip to Shippigan, stopping for ice cream. (My last adventure with Sandy) reminding me how often Sandy and I had hung out together as kids. O.K. enough of the sentiment - just looking so forward to going home. Did I tell you it was hot? I find it hard to sleep and sometimes find myself in the back yard at weird hours. I wrote this a few nights ago while out there.
Near dawn and the first pale light of day has yet to find the horizon but the night seems less dark by the pink peonies. A lightness engulfs the ruffles; round and round, getting smaller and smaller to the centre like Kleenex tissue squished in one’s palm. Dawn and the flowers that close for the night wait to be opened slowly to a gentle pry from yellow rays. The birds, seldom as patient, already in chorus above the garden. But still it is quiet. The world sleeps as dawn nears and in this moment where night begins to fold you can almost believe in anything, even yourself.
bridge
rut
This week is a strange one and I have been living far too much of it in my head. We are going home for two weeks in July. I love my hometown. I love where I’m from although it was always a tough little place to survive in and getting tougher. The mill closed in December and there is no sign of it reopening in the near future. But nevertheless it is a beautiful place and I miss it more than I like to admit. The city was never my cup of tea although I do try hard to be happy here and most days it is relatively easy – because I made it easy – by bowing out of the work force and most social settings, preferring to be around the house and the girls. But some days I realize just how small I’m making my world and I want to begin expanding it again. A neighbour of mine asked me if I wouldn’t mind teaching her Excel and I wouldn’t mind doing that at all and I should call her with a yes and arrange a time but I’m actually nervous to do something this simple. I’m telling ya, I am so extremely socially challenged that I get nervous ordering pizza.
However, we're going out tomorrow night to a restaurant with a couple of friends and I’m looking forward to that. That works well becuase I have greg with me and he finds it easy to carry on conversations so it leaves me comfortable not having to say too much. Greg is also taking tomorrow off and we’re going to try a game of golf. It will be my first time on a golf course although I have been practicing hitting balls at the driving range. What else is going on? Not much. Been writing a bit in the mornings and early evenings but not getting very far. Lots of ideas, no true drive to get it down right. Daunting. What I need is a separate computer without Internet access so I don’t go off surfing in mid sentence like I’ve been doing. I would love to try harder at writing but I am having a hard time committing myself to it 100%. I’m always worried about the time it eats up but really I’m not doing much else with that time. Poor Greg is still wondering why two weeks worth of filing is sitting on his desk in a big pile. I’ll do that now. Have a nice weekend.
energize
It's hot
This is when the school kids start scrambling to make friends with the ones with pools. Back yard pools are a rare thing in the city but there are a few in this neighbourhood and my kids have been lucky with an invite here and there. Heat and haze and thirsty long neck pansies and browning grass. Summer is here and this old house is like a sauna. I am not complaining though because I love the sun and I love sitting under the grape vines at night when things start to cool down. Greg has strung little clear lights all though the branches and it is pretty sitting beneath them. It was a nice weekend. Greg’s parents are up and the visit is going very well. I was also at this silent auction fundraiser on Friday night and picked up a new acoustic guitar for a quarter of its actual price. I guess no one else wanted a guitar that evening? Erin has been studying guitar all year at school, so now she has one here if she wants to continue with it and Monica has been playing with it, making us laugh by making up songs with this put on country twang. Her new CD will have song titles such as, “I’m rounding up the cattle without you.” She is a bit of an entertainer.
I am also happy that I'm finally making a bit more progress with this short story that I have been playing with for over a month called “The man in the field.” However, I am finding this “show the story, not tell the story,” a lot harder to do than it sounds. I keep wanting to give a long detail history to every character and I catch myself time and time again deleting paragraphs of rambling background that the story doesn’t need. I have been thinking a lot lately about what to do with my cache of writing from over the years, in particular two short chapter books (I think for the age eight – twelve group) and I am debating if Lulu.com is maybe a place for them? That is after I do a complete editing job on both and find an illustrator to help me with the covers. Not there yet, just pondering if this might be something to toil at. A couple of months back I wrote a fantasy story for this summer contest that Gryphonwood was having, where a monster had to be pivotal to the plot and I won!! I have a small fear that I may have been the only one who entered but still I am very pleased. Maybe Fantasy is my niche? After getting the news I got excited about possibilities and went combing through my collection and what I found is that although my writing doesn’t hold up in a lot of my stories, the stories themselves do – I still like most of them but they all require a major rewrite. Anyway, lots to do this morning and none of it is writing. Sigh!
the creek
Wednesday's Journal
Dog walkers, joggers, bikers and moms pushing strollers makes a steady stream of people traffic on the wide cement paths that run along both sides of this stretch of meandering shallow creek. This area is completely surrounded by thick growths of mature trees that try hard at keeping the city from interfering and they're doing a great job because I can almost forget that I'm in the city here. That is if I don’t look too closely at the creek’s bed and pretend that those white and brown high rises that sometimes appear through gaps in the green are just small mountains with very flat tops. I am sitting on a semi faded, chocolate brown park bench. My bike leans against it. The traffic has died off momentarily on the bike path. I wonder where every one went at once? Here comes a jogger. Wow, he’s in great shape and only sporting a pair of short blue shorts and sunglasses. He is huffing though so maybe he is nearing the end of his run? Now he is gone. Over the glen and through the glade he went with his pecs glinting gold. Now I’m alone again.
Still alone
O.K. someone has got to show up so I can write about something.
There is a robin in front of me on the grass – Do you notice robins always walk very quickly as if they are in a major rush but then pause every three feet to reflect on something? They should just walk slower and reflect as they go.
Another jogger approaches who is actually walking now –he at least dons a grey shirt to go with his short red shorts. He slides his water bottle out of his holster and takes a long drink. Opps, he's looking over – (not writing about you honest, Sir, just a little letter to my aunt)
Two men on mountain bikes – flying – one calls out to the other in a half winded voice, “Did you see the shots of that crazy spine?”
“Yeah,” the one in front answers.
A dragon fly- all black- the sun sparks the tops of his wings for a second. The robin is still scurrying and pausing, scurrying and pausing. A roller bladder with orange blades goes by, both hands clasped behind his back. He is also shirtless and moving at a tremendous clip. Very good form he has; like a pro. Two women are behind me walking slowly along a smaller dirt path, right at the edge of the creek. Mother and daughter maybe? No, both young, maybe in their thirties. One reaches up and touches the branch of a spruce tree. Too close, can’t look now but I can hear their sandal foot steps on the path behind me. They are quiet and then are gone.
In the distance comes another walker. White ball cap, white tank top, black shoes, maybe in his late fifties. His shoulders and neck are red from the sun. A woman just unhooked the red leash off her Rottweiller. He is very beautiful and sleek and panting heavy as he races by me. I love the look of a Rottweiller if it is in good shape like this one. Many I see are overweight and look like pub house bouncers. The same I find with golden labs. Quiet again. I like this exercise but I am not quite in the writing mood. It is nice sitting here in the sun though, people watching but I must get going. The girls come home for lunch and both will have stories to tell me about their morning.
tuesday
for Roberta
no dumping
before the rain
in the quarry
Wednesday's Journal
I can’t believe this but there is no card in my camera. After walking five kilometers and finding this perfect park right on the bluffs and then looking down onto the lake and finding it to be this unbelievable emerald colour with a hundred swallows flitting about like little black and white aerial dancers, and I can't even take one picture.
It smells like country here. I’m sitting in the shade of a huge spruce tree. It towers above me and is gorgeous. Or should I say she is gorgeous because she feels like a she – her long skirt makes a perfect circle around her hidden trunk. If I crawl towards her trunk, beneath her bottom layer where the ground is brown and bath towel thick with her old needles, I could easily stand up and even do jumping jacks inside there without touching a branch. But there are people walking along the paths a little ways off so I won’t do that but if I did her broad boughs would hide me completely from everyone.
The sun is behind her but she is letting bits of it through to shine on her tangle of bare inner branches, letting it skip and glint off of strands of silver web that seems to decorate almost every level of her inner sanctum and finally letting this light slide through her heavy laden arms of green to rest in bright sweetened strips. On the ends of many of her fingers she wears what looks like a small brown transparent thimble and when I easily slip one off it produces a gift of new jade green needles, which feel just like the teeth of a soft rubber comb. Every tip of her hold a tiny bit of this new. I liked her immediately because she offered me shade – I like her even more now, which is five minutes later, because she gave me something to write about.
There is an older man wearing a brown turban and a dark red shirt sitting almost lotus like beneath a twisted pine tree. He is reading a book and looks very content. His shoes sit neatly beside him and a large white Zellar’s bag sits next to the trunk. I wonder if he likes his tree as much as I like mine? Between us is a lilac bush; its purple flowers are swollen to bursting. A lot of its blossoms are already gone. The sky is pale blue. Not a cloud but birds are everywhere, flying low over the grass, high over the trees, even a small bird of prey dives and retreats. Five starlings kept me company for a few minutes complaining loudly to each other about something (probably about me) but they flew off. It is so nice here, I wish I could stay longer – I brought a book – I think I will finish up reading Chekhov’s, “a boring Story” before I head back home. It's my birthday today and Greg had giving me a book, called Mastering digital photography - i guess the first chapter might tell me that I can't master much if i keep forgetting the G D card.
