haiku at dawn

this bruised-sky morning
brightening into painterly
streaks of rose and peach

Sometimes I think my haiku is a melding of how Nature affects my mood or vice versa.

I did not try to photograph the sunrise, because my phone camera never catches the real-time colors. I have to let my words capture some moments.

Deception Pass will get you

Wobbly knees, anyone?

Surprised myself when my knees got a bit wobbly and I clutched my phone/camera in a vise grip sure I'd drop it 200 feet to the swirling water below. This is Deception Pass Bridge connecting Whidbey and Fidalgo islands in Washington. The two-lane motor bridge is more than a quarter mile in length with a three-foot pedestrian walkway. We walked over and back, having already hiked trails along the forested cliffs.

At one spectacular moment, two bald eagles soared right over our heads mid-way across the bridge. What a thrill! The nearby Upper Skagit River Valley has one of the largest populations of wintering bald eagles in the continental U.S.

Look closely and see the steel arch of the bridge through the trees. The trails, some quite narrow and rocky, are breathtakingly close to sheer drop-offs but the jade color of the water is equally breathtaking. The area was carved by glaciers and is a deep channel connecting the Strait of Juan de Fuca with the Saratoga Passage.

Before the bridge was built in 1934 by Civilian Conservation Corps and local farmers, travelers would hit a metal saw with a mallet to call a ferry operated by the first woman ferry captain in Washington, Bertie Olson.

Travel+Leisure lists the Deception Pass bridge as one of the scariest in the world.
It is certainly also one of the most beautiful.

Deception Pass State Park has 35 miles of trails with almost 15 miles of saltwater shoreline.

It was a most excellent day, which I recommend to anyone visiting Washington.

Walking into the sky

For some reason when I saw this blue opening in the sky I thought it looked like a path, like I might step into the sky, wander into the Other.

It felt more magical than a tiny fairy door because the potential was enormous, as big as the universe.

Or maybe my subconscious was remembering how I felt long time back reading the final lines of Philip Pullman's The Golden Compass: "So Lyra and her daemon turned away from the world they were born in, and looked toward the sun, and walked into the sky."

I've always thought that is one of the most brilliant ends to a novel ever.

Different day. Different sky. No openings except those one makes.

steady lap of waves,
mountains serene--sudden
cacophony of crows

The art of nature

I stumbled on a gem of a botanic garden where professional artists and students from local schools are encouraged to create art out of/in nature. The experience is like walking a trail through the woods and discovering unexpected marvels along the way.

This masked being with antlers looks like a  powerful shaman. Although he's magically awesome to behold, he's really made of old planter pots.

This captivated me, made me want to step into a tale. A table, chair, and meal growing moss. What does it mean? Everything returns to nature, dust-to-dust? Or the remains of a shipwrecked or fairy-stolen soul? What do you think?

Playful splash of color that almost seems musical.

Um. I have no idea, but it's deeply strange. Like a bog creature.

A wildly colorful yarn tipi thing with a wheel and arrow stick.

A fortified fairy abode. There were a bunch of tiny twig and bark houses tucked in corners of one part of the garden.

This is a big leaf magnolia, one of about 2,000 different native and exotic plants suited to the Pacific Northwest, growing in the Kruckeberg Botanic Garden in Shoreline, Washington.

At an on-site nursery, volunteers propagate many of the trees, shrubs, herbs, and flowers so that people can buy them to grow in their own yards. Workshops for adults and exploration programs for children continue the mission of the garden as educational as well as enjoyable.

I know I'll be going back.

My Earth from here

To celebrate Earth Day, I'm posting photos of my new natural surroundings in Washington. This place is so beautiful I think the pictures speak for themselves and remind me what I'm grateful for. Happy nature to all!

River running from Wallace Falls.

An urban park. Yeah, really.

Cutest little mushroom.

This hunk of driftwood is a prehistoric creature, right?

Crystal clear.

The trees are watching!

I love this planet Earth. 

This day. Every day.

Out of darkness, light

Human beings have known since the beginning of time that survival depends on Spring bringing rebirth. Light after darkness. Renewal. Hope. It is fitting, and probably not coincidental, that Easter (life after death) and Passover (freedom after slavery) are celebrated around the time of the vernal equinox. We all feel the change in the air. We are creatures of nature, of this world.

I have nothing profound to say about a basic human need we all understand; I'm just going to share my joy in the season with pictures of flowers, like the calla lily above, and some silly shots I made by putting artworks outside in our garden to let them live the moment.

This brass bunny is about the size of a walnut and came from Czechoslovakia more than 65 years ago. I set him on a bed of baby tears.

Iceland poppies. They make me smile, bobbing in the breeze like tiny kites. So fragile and yet enduring.

Dancing young bear I found in a shop in Canada. There is something so winsome in his expression. He was carved by Markoosie Papigatuk of Cape Dorset.

Backlit pansies, because I love the sun's illumination through petals, that reminder that light changes the way we see things.

A gift from a friend long ago--vintage glazed ceramic rabbit. I always thought she was beautiful, but taking her off the black enamel cabinet and out into the garden puts her in a new light. Vulnerable, aware, alive.

Ranunculas. Every garden in spring needs them. Such joyous color.

Dancing walrus! Oh, how I love this guy. Purchased him in Canada. Created by Ed Kabluitok Panikotuapik of Rankin Inlet.

Everybody dance, please, 'tis the season.

The week that was

I'm back from my writing-retreat vacation. Well, I did do some writing, and had one excellent world-building idea. But I had a problem with my neck, which made typing on my laptop painful. The good news is it was gorgeous where I was, so I will share the pretty.

Dragon kelp! Really, doesn't it look like a dragon's wide open jaws and slithery body?

Here are some thoughts that came that day as I walked to the far end of the pier:

Birds, white and silent,skim the placid jade-green sea.
From shore, a muffled thud and whoosh.
Farther out,sea lions take to sun bathing and barking from their flat-topped rock.

Storm coming. Actually there were several rain events, but they came in spurts (ha) that allowed for walks and awe.

From a underpass. Makes me feel like an explorer coming into a secret land.

Swinging at the end of the day. And, yes, I found a moment when kids weren't on the swings to pump myself into flight.

A bright splash along a dune.

Have I said lately how much I love walking by the ocean? I do. I do.

As for the writing (rewriting a novel), all that rest and rejuvenation (I had two massages and a facial!) combined with my neck getting better has resulted in three chapters rewritten since I got back.

I wish everyone such a holiday. And, I hope you find a place that makes corned beef pizza (with mustard) and another that whips up dark chocolate crepes. *grins*

Two shadows

After I took this shot of an egret, I noticed it was casting two shadows. What does that mean?

My best guess, since the sun is the light source, is that one of these shadows is reflected light. But it's also fun to think one is a ghost or the spirit of the bird aside from its body. Which is the real bird?

As a writer I like to think what that could mean in creating characters. The most complex characters have layers, which might reflect differently, be perceived in alternate ways by other characters and the reader.

I just read an interview, which tied in to this in a way.

From Shelf Awareness interview with Herman Koch, the Dutch author of THE DINNER, a tale told by an unreliable narrator.

"Instead of a character who reveals himself in the course of a narrative, I was thinking of Paul as a man who has something to hide. In the beginning we think that he is just protecting his privacy, and the privacy of his family, but in the end we find out that he has been hiding his "real self" from the reader--like most of us do, I think."

That's pretty interesting to consider when crafting a novel. Do we all have shadow selves? What do you think?

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P.S. I've got a guest post Monday, Nov. 19, from author Laurel Garver about using poetry techniques in fiction writing. Please drop in!

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Another P.S. This is amazing! Agent Sara Megibow is offering a 50-page critique just for commenting on Natalie Bahm's blog (random winner to be picked). The offer is meant to promote sales of THE SECRET UNDERGROUND, an MG novel whose proceeds benefit the family of a sick little boy. It is such a worthy cause and such an opportunity. Please check it out.

The thing about sunsets and something important

We all love a good sunset.

Everybody with a camera or cell phone tries to catch that ephemeral moment.

And I thought I'd share some of mine right now, because things have been sooooooo intense for all of us lately, what with contentious elections and superstorms. So here's to joy and beauty and that sense of wonder a sunset can give.

The sun will come up tomorrow. We can count on that. Unless, of course, you're writing dystopian and have decided to scare the bejeebers out of us. Love you all! We're good here.
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And for those of you who write or are teachers or librarians there is an amazing online auction to raise money to benefit the Red Cross relief effort for people devastated by Sandy. The project is hosted by Kate Messner and the Twitter hashtag is #KidLitCares. Some of the authors, agents, editors putting up critiques, Skype visits, phone chats, books and more are Laurie Halse Anderson, Veronica Roth, Cheryl Klein, Ellen Hopkins, Linda Sue Park, Mo Willems, Jennifer Laughran. Oh, there are so many more. Check it out, put in a bid. Such a good cause.

The sky is everywhere, oh yes

I wouldn't cope well with the crap we all step in from time to time if it weren't for this world giving me stunners like this:

When nature is glorious my spirit soars. I put my feet in the sea, reach for the sky and drag in the air. Have you ever gone flying in your dreams? It feels so right. Like we somehow in daily life forget how natural it is to let go and just be.

And, yes, I titled this post using a phrase that popped in my head but is also the title of a brilliant novel by Jandy Nelson. I'd reviewed it some time ago but never forgot the story of a girl upended by grief at the sudden death of her sister. Here's the unforgettable last line of the first chapter: It's as if someone vacuumed up the horizon while we were looking the other way. I know that empty, lost feeling too well. I think I need to read the book again, to remember how this story, which is also funny and passionate, never forgets the grief but discovers purpose--a place to flourish in this world.

We've all been buried by grief. We've all cowered from our demons or learned to stand up to them. We've all been betrayed by someone we trusted. We've all lost confidence at one time or another. Or, at least, I believe these things are universal.

But there is healing. There is beauty. There is hope.

The sky is everywhere.

of shadows and sand

Sometimes I'm a shadow and the sea is not much more.

Sometimes I write haiku because it comes on the breeze.

pillows of sea foam--
rainbow sparks until drifting,
vanishing sand clouds

Sometimes I love this world.