I often walk the small public shoreline near my home. This particular beach is cold but lovely, washed with multicolored stones, swells of coarse grey sand, and rags of jewel-toned seaweed lacing the land to the sea. Seabirds and shellfish are common sights, salmon and eagles a bit less so, and rarely, harbor seal pups sleep on the sand while their mothers hunt.
Each time I walk, I try to remind myself to be present and content with the beauty around me, but I often find myself naturally searching for something. I scan the sand for seashells, shards of colorful sea glass, a surprising stone, or even an image to collect and share with friends and family online. My search is both causal and methodical. Every few steps, I check the ground, I look up at the sky, I look out over the water, I look down again. When the weather is wet or windy, as it is in the fall, I’m often alone. A few times -very few times- on this journey, I’ve found something of interest or extraordinary beauty in the …
Thanks for stopping by! I'm newly returned from my fourth time attending Sirens Conference, a wonderful experience designed especially for readers and writers of women in fantasy. I've said a lot about this conference in the past and you can find those entries here: 2013, 2014, 2015. This time, I'll hit the highlights and just say that Sirens continues to be an affirming and centering weekend. I'm so grateful to all the staff, volunteers, guests of honor, presenters, and attendees who make each year incredibly special and important.
Darian, Lola, and I started our weekend on Wednesday at my mother's home in the foothills. We visited, sang, ate, sipped tea, and hiked a while in the red rocks nearby. (My mom and stepdad live in the foothills near Castlerock.)
My sweet mama at the piano:
Darian on a cliff:
Lola among the rocks:
On Thursday, refreshed and rested, we made our way to the Inverness Hotel in Denver where we registered and ate an early d…
I hope this post finds you well and journeying into the new year with relative ease. I'm feeling okay, though I admit I'm still deeply troubled by the headlines. I'm doing my best to keep my gaze fixed on action, beauty, and art, but I can sense Panic prowling nearby, a hungry old cat. Not that I would deny my fear. I think she just needs to settle by the fire instead of attacking my feet, if you know what I mean.
In more cheerful news, this morning, as I paused in the garden near my children's school, I noticed a definite shift in the air. The birds must have noticed it too because they were out in abundance, chattering and clamouring away in the green cedars and barren oaks.
Winter is still with us, but a long, slow thaw is beginning to relax the land. The ground is softening.
The wind is not quite as sharp.
The ice is melting.
As my little corner of the world slowly transforms over the coming weeks and months, and as our country and world tr…