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May is motherhood memoir month

Ekphrastic Mama

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bees outside the hive, reluctant to move in

From Bees to Rats

writing

The bees of yesterday are still outside the hive we put them in-deciding whether they want to move in, or cleaning out the hive and repainting for the Queen? We don’t know. We watch and wait. Such diversion. Meanwhile, I write, some. Not a lot. I often think, “This is going to be a writing day- get lots done! I’m not going to do much else…” But then life happens. Today, our youngest daughter is making inroads toward getting another pet. We have a Maine Coon, but he is not a very affectionate male cat. He mostly tolerates us, and we are amused by him, but Ari is pining for a small pet. She’s been trying to trap a mouse with a friendly trap, to no avail. Being quarantined or sequestered can be lonely for a 13-year-old, so I find my “no more pets” stance softening. I don’t want to…

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More Bees, Less Words

Adventure

Today a friend said she had two swarms of bees at her house and I could come get one if I wanted. But it was about 20 feet up in a tree. I like a challenge. The hub was reluctant, in the middle of a project… but he’s a game guy. This time our 13 year-old daughter came too, all three of us suited up in our bee suits. Bee girl It was a huge swarm. Actually, the two swarms merged into one. We went back and forth with ideas of how best to get it down, if it was even possible. The professionals from our bee club said it was too high; they’d just leave it. Huge swarm up high But we figured out a plan. The hub climbed up a ladder tethered to his truck, lassoed the branch with a rope and shook this huge swarm into a…

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When Bees(&Words) Die

writing

The bee swarm we “rescued” last week off the curb at the corner of a main thoroughfare didn’t make it. And I don’t know why, although I have some theories. And as writers, not all the words we write are going to make it out into the world. It doesn’t stop us from trying, from stringing words together into sentences born of observations and ideas, some cohesive and some less so, knowing that many written words will be left behind, or left off the final stories. As a writer you just have to be okay with that, right? And as you get better at it you may be able to save more original words, but writing that first draft will always be an act of exploration and discovery. That’s part of the fun. It was fun, and a bit inconvenient to go get bees. Stop what you are doing and…

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I Am a Tree

Prompts

Picture yourself as a tree. All day I’ve seen myself re-cast as a tree and it has been my best new thought, drawing me toward the sky, a seeker transforming the air we breathe. I love trees. Last week I posted this quote from John Muir: I have never seen a discontented tree. Muir’s words speak to two of my deepest places: a love for trees, and a desire to be satisfied. I’ve pondered contentment much of my life, coaching myself toward it, sometimes thinking I’ve arrived. But I haven’t entirely whipped it. I know this because I’m often restless. My restlessness takes the form of wanting to consume things I don’t need, or even really enjoy all that much after the initial dopamine hit. Dark chocolate or some other “healthy” treat is usually my consumable of choice. Sometimes wine or beer, but not on a daily basis, and usually…

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La Grande Jatte by Seurat

Seurat and Social Distancing

Prompts

In Seurat’s pointillist painting, La Grande Jatte, notice how everyone is arranged in small groups with some distance between them? I never saw it quite like this before, but living through a pandemic changes your view on just about everything. Is there a piece of art that represents how life has changed for you since the onset of the pandemic? A painting might inspire a story or poem, or vivid imagery in a poem or story might inspire a painting or sculpture (reverse ekphrasis). Using art as a starting point, describing what you see until the story or idea behind the objects or scene reveals itself. That’s ekphrastic writing and it can bring new layers of meaning, along with new ways of seeing, to your work. Give it a try. And stay safe this Memorial Day Weekend. Writing, generally done alone, is a fairly safe activity.

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First Drafts

writing

The process of writing first drafts is a lot like climbing a mountain for the first time according to C.C. Humphreys, an author who spoke to Willamette Writers recently. He’s written eleven novels with more to come and he speaks with that charming British accent, easy listening. I heard the Nietzsche quote (post from two days earlier) from him, but he said it like this: You must have chaos within who gives birth to a dancing star. I have chaos within and without, so I felt rather encouraged, how you want to feel when you are writing a first draft and listening to one who has gone before you several times. This is not my first draft. But it is one of the first I am close to finishing, or so I hope. The thing about calling a first draft finished is, how do you know it is finished? It…

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no tree looks discontent to me

A Discontented Tree

Prompts

Have you ever seen one? I try to imagine what it might look like. Thirsty, parched, in need of water is the best I can do. Maybe a Yucca in Death Valley. Certainly not the trees lining the Columbia Gorge where I live. We walk under their canopies daily, looking up, breathing in the oxygen-rich air they provide, thankful to be here, sharing life. No sign of discontent anywhere nearby. “I never saw a discontented tree,” said John Muir. He might’ve been in or around Yosemite where he spent much of his time. He soaked in the satisfaction of the trees, of a simple life breathing fresh outdoor air. Trees have stories. They connect and communicate through their root systems. Go for a walk today and ask a tree, What sort of story have you for me? Or write a tree into a scene, along with the word discontented. Enjoy…

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John Deere/dear decanting honey left by the last bees

When Writing Disappears

Prompts

That happens from time to time, right? You forget to hit save like I did yesterday after starting today’s post… At least I think I wrote a post. I’ve been writing a lot lately and dreaming, both day and night, so I realize it’s possible I only dreamed I wrote a post. At any rate, it has not reappeared in my drafts folder where I thought, or dreamed, I wrote it. What I love is how comical this seems to me, when before, maybe last year, it might’ve caused stress or anxiety, like a bee swarm before I knew much about bees. When I’m writing a lot, I know I can just write some more. When I’m not writing much, every word feels precious, no matter how bad it might be. And when I’m writing a lot the writing seems better somehow, like I’m hitting more of the right notes,…

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the chaos of an abandoned hive

Embracing Chaos

writing

“One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.” -Nietzsche There’s nothing like a swarm of bees to remind you of the joys of embracing chaos. Today the bees (from yesterday’s swarm, see post) are happily building a cozy comb while the rain pelts the outside of their log hive and we are all pressing on with our work. I’m finally getting comfortable with the chaos of life, the pandemic, and writing, all swirled together. I’ve spent much of life pushing chaos toward order; who doesn’t love order more than chaos? But I’m learning to appreciate chaos as inevitable, and a good sign when it comes to creativity. I’m finding inspiration in the bees. When bees swarm it looks chaotic and makes people nervous. But if they’ve learned about bees they know it is the least dangerous time, after the bees have…

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swarm

Secrets of the Writer Bees

writing

Late afternoon on Sunday, a day that began with a hike to several waterfalls in a forest nearby where we live in the Columbia Gorge, I got a text about a swarm of bees nearby. They were congregating at the Moose Lodge in Camas. Sunday afternoons are lazy, dinner over early, and lots of outdoor time if weather permits, but also reading, writing, relaxing. Having already been on a 45-minute hike that turned into a two-hour slosh through mud, but an adventure nonetheless, we were well spent. But the weather was lovely, so once we had brunch and revived we pulled blackberry vines and stinging nettle from the bank in our backyard forest. And now it was evening, time to relax. The hub did not want to add a bee venture to the end of this day, so I said the thing that will usually rouse him. “I’ll go by…

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