Rain

Rain

Summer rain slanting,
blinds my eyes, slashes my skin.
and I bleed water.

Photos are mine.

Graduation Day 2012

Yes, there are more photos of my grand-daughter.  This is her high school graduation in a class of 419, the largest class to graduate from Halifax West High School.

We felt the excitement and the tension in the building. 

The High School did an excellent job of organizing the cermony. 

In 2.5 hours, it was complete.

The graduates turned and waved to family.

 

Nervous, waiting to go up on stage.

The graduate is pleased with herself.

And we're pleased for her too.

 

The Night Before Graduation

My grand-daughter and her friends got together the night before graduation to have fun and take some photos.  These are a few of the many pictures taken.  They did indeed have fun with each other.  I'll post some of the grad pictures tomorrow.

Pretty pleased to be a graduate...can you tell?

What's in The Sink?

What’s in The Sink?

We love our cats, two Birman Cats and one Maine Coon Cat.  And they love us…so much so that they want to be wherever we are.  That’s not always convenient. 

They can’t come outside with us, because Birmans are scaredy cats and don’t run when they are frightened; they hunker down and make themselves small…not good, if something is chasing them.  The Maine Coon would chase something, even if...it was after him, but that’s not the point.  We don’t want them outside being exposed to ickiness that would require a visit to the Vet.  We don’t want them eating birds and bugs and other critters that are not good for them.  And, we love the birds too.  So the cats can’t go outside.

They can’t go to the basement, a dark and dusty place where all things off-season are stored, where cans of paint and oil lurk waiting to be spilled on furry coats, where harmful tools hang, lean and sit. 

Our cats are house cats.  They live within the confines of the main and the second floors.  They roam freely in those areas, their limited castle.

We find them in odd places.  They curl up and sleep by the back door, just inside the door so we can’t get in or out without moving them.  They climb the top of the cupboards and sleep in baskets that used to be market baskets, but are now cat baskets.  We find them on top of the dressers, under the comforters on the bed, inside any box or bag that’s been left unattended.  They’ll sleep in footwear belonging to guests or make themselves cozy in an open purse or suitcase.  They love to be near books, nestled in the bookcases or sleeping on top.  They're fond of trying to sleep on whatever I am reading, reaching paws around the edges to pull the book or paper down, to create a flat surface on which to rest.

They plant themselves on the chairs and couches in the living room, if we are there, or on either side of Gary on the sofa, if we are upstairs.  When I write or sit at the computer for long periods of time, they curl up on top of my feet on the floor, in order to be ready to go with me if I move.

It’s hard to be anywhere in the house without them piling on or coming near.  Yesterday when I had a shower, I forgot to shut the bathroom door tight.  When I finished my shower, Ollie was sitting on the edge of the sink watching.  As you can see, he hardly fits on the sink ledge.  And, the other two?  They were in the bathroom doorway, waiting to see what was happening next.

We love our cats.  And they love us.  That means togetherness, even in the bathroom.

And yes, I cleaned the sink, just like I’m constantly cleaning every place they can reach.  It’s a small price to pay for love and affection; though it would be great if there was less fur with all that love.

But then love isn’t always tidy and neat, is it?  It’s just love; love messy and wonderful…and often furry.


If you click on the words in red, you'll go to another site with additional information.  The photo is mine.

Robin

Robin

Only this robin
enjoys the rain, the sound of
a worm uprising.


Photo is mine.

My First Grandchild

My first grandchild, my first grand-daughter is graduating this year.  It is an exciting milestone for her, for me and for the whole family. 

What will her future hold?  What is her next adventure? 

None of that matters much this week because it's prom night, then graduation...with all the dressed-up and going-out fanciness that the celebrations of finishing high school promise.

Her Mom is proud of her.  We are all proud of her.  She is an amazing young woman facing a future filled with opportunity and dreams.

All of us wish her joy and happiness,

and want only the best in life for her.

Congratulations

on a job well done.

Write a Little Every Day

Write a Little Every Day

“Write a little every day, without hope, without despair,” said Isak Dinesen.  The name Isak Dinesen is the pseudonym for Baroness Karen von Blixen-Finecke (1885-1962), a Danish author who wrote Out of Africa and Babette’s Feast.

I do write every day.  I write between five hundred and twenty-five hundred words.  That’s not too challenging.  The “without hope, without despair” part is difficult.  I don’t always accomplish that.

I think my writing is improving.  I learn and use new skills. I try fresh methods and practise without fail.  Yet, there are times when I feel…well, if not despair, then…disappointment because it can be a challenge to see any progress.

I look back through my first blog entries, those from last year.  There are differences.  Reviewing them shows me that I have learned to let go of using adjectives everywhere.  But, I’ve learned that a well-chosen adjective around a noun can be useful in limiting the number of associations which can arise in a reader’s mind.  I’ve learned to beat the bushes of any piece I write to flush out the adverbs and then to cull them.  I’ve learned that both adjectives and adverbs saturating the page make the reader tired and confused and limit the reader’s imagination.

The best posts I’ve written are those in which I’ve been honest, shared emotions and refrained from quoting others again and again, in attempts to shore up my insecurities.  My best posts connect with the reader in direct ways, show new ways of seeing, understanding and enjoying the world.  The best are written from my heart; then refined by my head through careful revisions.

Sometimes, most times, it is helpful for me to write a piece; to leave it alone long enough so that it begins to feel unfamiliar.  Not mine.  That helps me to be objective, to see my writing for what it is.  And this helps me to revise without remorse, to hack out the parts that need to go.

What else?  I read every day.  There are stacks of books on the kitchen table, beside my bed and on my desk.  I read poetry, short stories and novels.  I read my thesaurus and my dictionary.  I research about my writing and my topics, at the library, on the Internet and with other writers.  I listen to published (and hoping to be published) writers reading from and talking about their work.   I follow writing courses when I can afford to do so, which is not as often as I would like and not often enough.  All help me to expand what I know and what and how I am writing.  Still, it is slow going.

In my daily 500 to 2500 words, there are ups and downs.  Some days I’m tired, forget the guidelines, and just want to get something, anything down on paper.   Other days, the magic is there and words flow--not perfect, but better.  And, once in a while after studying and writing and revising and writing, again and again, a piece will yield a sentence so lovely that I wonder, is this mine?  Or an image so ethereal and strange that I wonder, where did this come from?  And I recognize intuitively that something unique and new has been created.

These luminous moments keep me going with hope, and for a time, keep me going without disappointment or despair.

And so, I write…

And so, I learn…



 Words in red will take you to another site with additional information, if you click on them.