Sunday Scribblings: I've Got a Secret

The Sunday Scribbling topic this week is I’ve Got a Secret.

Here are a few of my secrets:

I am enthralled with stories about people getting rescued off a mountain or out of a raging river. I don’t like reality television shows.

I grab any book by Anna Quindlen, Anne Lamott, or Elizabeth Berg. I have never read much by Steinbeck, Faulkner, Hemingway, or Twain.
I can grow roses, peonies, and clematis in my garden. I have never been successful with delphiniums, astible, or butterfly bushes.

I enjoy brewing a cup of Lipton’s tea and adding some milk. I have to choke down chamomile and green tea. In the city I spend hours in bookstores, second hand stores, and plant nurseries. I never shop at Nordstrom’s, Ann Taylor, or Victoria’s Secret.

I grew up in a town with a ski resort that went from Jackass Ski Bowl to Silverhorn to Silver Mountain. I have never snow skied in my life.

I am challenged by word puzzles, constructing an essay, and word choice in poetry. I can’t comprehend algebra, physics, or probability. I look forward to preserving pickles, jams, and applesauce every year. I can’t make a flaky pie crust, homemade bread, or any confection requiring a candy thermometer.

When I shop for clothes my first requirement is comfort. I no longer wear high heels, scratchy fabric, or fancy dancy sleepwear.

As I have moved through life I have acquired a wide group of friends. There are the childhood friends, the neighbors from another town, college friends, co-workers, my new blog friends, and friends that have been with me through the best and worst of times.
My last secret... I would love to have a friends week-end and gather all these women in one place. I think everyone would get along beautifully!
To find other Sunday Scribblings posts go here.

There is No Place Like Home!

It was good to arrive home today. McDuff said hello at the front walk. Isabelle waited on the makeshift wheelbarrow to greet me. Lily came from out in the field when she heard my voice. She rested on the stump while I called her.
The roses have bloomed profusely since I have been gone. This is the All-American Girl.

I love the sound of the fountain spilling into the pond in the back garden.The larkspur and dill reseeded from last year in the cutting garden.I love the combination of the purple blooms and the green dill heads. There is no place like home!

Postcards from McCall: See You Next Year!

The reading/writing retreat came to a close today. People lingered not wanting it to end. Conversations continued after lunch as people loaded up their stuff. The phrase I heard over and over that warmed my heart was, " See you next year!" This week people took risks with their writing. We formed a trusting community and cried over stories of struggle and loss. Some holed up in cabins and were very productive with academic projects. Others enjoyed the hiking trails, the hot sun yesterday, bike trails, writing workshop, an espresso from town, and s'mores at the final campfire.

I have much to look forward to tomorrow. A scenic drive, good coffee at Starbucks, a quick trip to the bookstore, and a country road with JEJ, two dogs, six cats, two rabbits, and summer gardens waiting for my return.

Summer Solstice, My First Reading, and a Completed Poem

Tonight we celebrated the longest day of the year with a reading, a steak dinner, great dogs, sharing of writing, and a campfire. I did my first memoir reading with my friend Bev (below) before dinner. We each picked favorite pieces and read on benches before dinner in the pine trees.

The highlight of a delicious steak dinner tonight was watching the two " resident" dogs be so well-behaved as they sat by their masters during meal time..

Later we all gathered in the yurt and shared writing written during the day. My goal was to complete some poetry since that isn't a genre I feel as comfortable writing. I shared the poem below. We then moved to the campfire to round out our last evening with s'mores, conversation, and laughter.

The writing prompt we worked on in the workshop this morning was called "baggage". It centered around those things we hang on to and keep in our lives. After hearing other people's brainstorm lists I combined them into this poem:

Digging For Keys
Faded cottage cheese tubs stuffed with rusty nails,
hooks on the wall overflowing with coats;
a ripped poncho, a manure covered barn coat, a too-small ski parka.
Hanging close are the hats;
hunting orange, hand-me-down tan, John Deere green,
The stained lavender lamp shade lingers in the corner.

Resting on the steps, plastic plant pots, trays, and saucers to catch the drips;
a leaky watering can, one silver slipper, a dead lily discarded after Easter.
nozzles, washers, sprinklers for hoses;
five Mason jars, three canning rings, a crock pot without a lid.

The drawer holds keys to doors that never open, cords to gadgets long thrown away;
Fasteners with a purpose fading from memory and doodads once with a use,
two knights from a chess set, wooden Scrabble tile, one toothpick,
pastel birthday candles, an outdated candy thermometer
resting before the next celebration.

Things of life are saved, arranged, hung, and displayed.
They join soft levis molded to our shape;
colored Avon bottles Aunt Pearl wrote into her will;
birdfeeder presented as a wedding gift;
leaning mailbox with the chipped red flag.

Things remind us of everyday life;
nails to repair the fence, crock pot Sunday soup,
batch of applesauce put up last fall, a marathon Scrabble game.
Digging for keys that frosty, winter night
Doors and windows were locked up tight.

A Retreat Summer Reading List and Moved to Tears by Writing

After the activity yesterday many people exchanged book lists for summer reading. The list below is a collection from the group. These books are for varied age levels and interests. The four above are ones I gathered before the trip for summer reading.

The Book of Everything by Guus Kuijer

1001 Books You Should Read Before You Die edited by Peter Boxall

Owl Moon by Jane Yolen

Atonement by Ian McEwan

A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson

The Madonnas of Leningrad by Debra Dean

Wicked and other titles by Gregory Maguire

Snow by Orhan Pamuk

So B. It by Sarah Weeks

Dinner With Dad: How I Found My Way Back to the Family Table by Cameron Stracher ( his proud cousin-in-law is part of our group)

Writing Brave and Free by Ted Kooser and Steve Cox

mysteries by Josephine Tey

mysteries by Martha Grimes

Are there other titles you could recommend to my growing list?

Last evening the wind came up and there were whitecaps on the lake. We felt it was unsafe to have our nightly campfire.

We moved inside to this yurt that has been transformed into a comfortable classroom. It worked well with the lights dimmed to listen to writing by our participants. Serious topics such as death of parents, children leaving home, and a drowning accident were crafted into prose that brought people to tears. The evening inspired the group to continue with new writing ideas today.

Writing: Reaching a Goal and Creating a Writing Space

As I look out on Payette Lake this evening I slowed down to reflect on a very productive writing day. I reached another writing goal. I have blogged each day since I started February 11th. This makes Blog #175. Doing this ritual each day has enriched my own writing experience. I practice the craft, get feedback, and stay in a routine of making time to do it.Today I set up my own writing space with the essentials. A view of the lake and pine trees, a favorite mug and trail mix, a laptop, and music playing in the background. I revised memoir pieces early in the day. I then went to a workshop on the topic of "What We Read and How That Reflects on What We Write". Lori had us list books that have made a difference in our lives in the last year, then share them with the group. Next we listed the types of writing we do. She helped us see that there are themes between what we choose to read that may help enhance our writing. Some of us read about certain types of characters. Others focus on a time period. Often I immerse myself in a certain genre. The workshop gave us much to reflect on during our lunch on the outdoor porch. We also left the workshop with a whole new list of books for backyard reading.

When I introduced myself last night with a piece of writing I chose a copy change using "Women Who Love Angels" by Judith Ortiz Cofer. With copy change the writer imitates another poem either with structure or word choice. I have also posted this on Thursday Poetry here.

Woman Who Loves Gardening

I have dirty nails
and rarely paint them, living out
my long growing season in the flower garden, trellises
giving view to clematis, climbing Peace
where aromatic flowers
grow in profusion.
I pull the weeds
in the early morning
gritting my teeth
wiping sweat from my brow
and listening
to footsteps of my husband
coming in range to help.
Sun makes my face red;
each sniff with my nose
leaves lily pollen behind.
When I rest it’s the beauty

that causes anxiety to shake loose
from a woman in need
of a quiet place to retreat.

-with thanks to Judith Ortiz Cofer

Here is the original poem:

Women Who Love Angels

by Judith Ortiz Cofer

They are thin

and rarely marry, living out

their long lives in spacious rooms, French doors

giving view to formal gardens

where aromatic flowers

grow in profusion.

They play their pianos

in the late afternoon

tilting their heads

at a gracious angle

as if listening

to notes pitched above

the human range.

Age makes them translucent;

each palpitation of their hearts

visible at temple or neck.

When they die, it's in their sleep,

Their spirits shaking gently loose

from a hostess too well bred

to protest.

Our group is ready to wind up another day of reading, writing, discussion, and retreating. This picture captures the moon last night after twilight.