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Archive for the ‘Inspiration’ Category

One of my favorite phrases from childhood is “tell me a story.”  Four words that were an invitation to weave together the day’s events into a narrative with a beginning, middle and an end.  Well, on this quiet Monday (at least where I am), I invite you to tell me a story using the following image recently sent to me by a friend.  It is a petunia growing straight out of a wall.  If you know nothing of petunias, let me tell you, it takes a while for them to grow from seed into a flowering plant.  How did it get there?  As it grew, did people stop to stare?  As the blossom formed, was anyone tempted to pick it?  How in the world has it survived the recent summer storms?  Hardy little thing it surely is.

The Petunia Wall by Frank Reece

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I received an e-update today from poets.org that included news about W. S. Merwin, one of my favorite poets. He is succeeding Kay Ryan as the 2010-2011 U.S. Poet Laureate.  His is a poetry that makes one pause.  Maybe all poetry does that. 😉  In any case, in the bookstore where I work, in the quiet moments, I pull Merwin’s Shadow of Sirius from the shelf.  I recently discovered that he’d written a famous poem about mushrooms. As someone who has habitually avoided mushrooms I am amazed at how often mushrooms are appearing in my life this summer!

Looking for Mushrooms at Sunrise

When it is not yet day
I am walking on centuries of dead chestnut leaves
In a place without grief
Though the oriole
Out of another life warns me
That I am awake

In the dark while the rain fell
The gold chanterelles pushed through a sleep that was not mine
Waking me
So that I came up the mountain to find them

Where they appear it seems I have been before
I recognize their haunts as though remembering
Another life

Where else am I walking even now
Looking for me

— W. S. Merwin

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Dead Mule School of Southern Literature has posted a poem that I wrote about southern storms.  Thanks to the folks at Dead Mule.  You can check out my poem at the link below, and please do read some of the other wonderful poems, essays and stories you’ll find on the website.

Summer Storms –  Poem

And to learn more about how a southern upbringing influences this creative life, read the recent interview with Molly Anderson-Childers for Creativity Portal.com.

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Isabel is my landlady.  In her garden there are flowers and vegetables and herbs of all sorts and whimsical little touches for her daughter like little white birds.  And there is Oswald.  Oswald is a rat.  When I’ve stood in the garden, I’ve seen him dash by behind me.  And when I sit upstairs in the kitchen window, I see him nibbling on plump leaves below.  He’s a city rat, big, brown and long-tailed and whiskered.  His coat is streaked with gray.  Perhaps he’s old and has lived in the garden a long time.  It is a very nice garden.

I’ll be honest.  I do not have a fondness for rats.  But I do love nature.  Oswald is a part of the garden’s ecosystem.  So, when I see him and my heart hammers and I just want him GONE, I try to think of rats I’ve liked in literature, like those in Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH.  Then there’s that pot bellied rat in Charlotte’s Web.  I’m sure there are others.  In any case … I’m hoping we can find a way to live together.

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This quiet Sunday I found myself gardening. Procrastination, no doubt, from other tasks but I do like the end result.  In the hallway where I live there is a glass topped wooden table and on the table there are some plants.  This morning I removed the plants, cleaned the table and then covered the glass with an old shawl.  I put most of the old plants back and then added a few new ones.  It reminds me of a little oasis.

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These beautiful images were taken by my cousin, Lorraine, in the garden behind her Brooklyn home.  They certainly brightened my day when she shared them with me.  I hope they do the same for you wherever you are in the world today.

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For years, my cousin Timothy has introduced me to the sights and sounds of New York City when I have come to visit.  This weekend he introduced me to the NYC High Line Park.  What a treat!

As noted on the official website, “The High Line was built in the 1930s, as part of a massive public-private infrastructure project called the West Side Improvement. It lifted freight traffic 30 feet in the air, removing dangerous trains from the streets of Manhattan’s largest industrial district. No trains have run on the High Line since 1980. Friends of the High Line, a community-based non-profit group, formed in 1999 when the historic structure was under threat of demolition. Friends of the High Line works in partnership with the City of New York to preserve and maintain the structure as an elevated public park.”

An elevated public park.  It really must be seen to be believed.  Learn more here.  I was impressed by how the park engages the senses.  Not just sight, but through its Public Art, all of the senses are engaged.  I hope to write more about my experience in the near future, but until then here are a few pictures from our time on the High Line.

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Recently, in the quiet of the Maine woods and along the shores I saw many beautiful things.  Like a feather caught in seaweed.

And wild blueberries sprouting along rocky crags.

Pinecones, of course.


Most surprising were the butterflies and moths.

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