The Narrow Fellow

I was out back planting a hosta when this narrow fellow (as Emily Dickinson called a snake in one of her poems) came from somewhere below the house, and climbed onto the rock wall. I hurried inside to get my camera  . . .

He seemed to have a mission and slid quickly along the wall . . .

He (or she) is a black rat snake, close to six feet long. We are happy to have these critters around to deal with rodents . . . but would prefer they stayed out of the chicken house. (They are fond of eggs too.)  

Completely ignoring the paparazzi, snake keeps going. . .

A beautiful blue tinge to the black . . .

Almost at the other end of the house now, I decide that snake is probably heading for the green house. We often find shed snakeskins in there.  

A snake with a plan . . .

Just keep going . . . 

Turn left at the gate . . .

Ooze down . . .

A quick slide across the grass and there's the greenhouse . . .

I'd weeded this bed just the day before and while I really like these snakes, I prefer not to put an unsuspecting hand on one. . .

Where is snake? There on the window sill, looking for a way in . . .

And, thanks to a tear in the screen, snake is in. . .

The greenhouse is mostly empty of plants now . . .

Sometimes these snakes twine themselves through the trellis/shelf to remove their old skins . . . 

But this snake has something else in mind . . .

Into a hole in the wall he goes. It's probably a mouse hole and I expect that snake will wreak havoc among the mice.

I just need to remind John to keep the door that leads from his computer room to the greenhouse closed.

Where the Bee Sucks . . .

Accidental Birds of the Carolinas

 

One of the pleasures of Wildacres is hearing fellow faculty members read from their work. Marjorie Hudson's beautiful reading of  "New World Testament" convinced me that I needed her short story collection . . . as if the title and cover art hadn't already been singing their siren song.

The 'accidental birds' referred to are the newcomers to the Carolinas -- whether today or in 1720.  The stories, rich in detail, characterization, and poetic imagery, put me in mind of Lee Smith, of Anne Tyler, of Tony Earley . . . but why should I natter on? Suffice it to say, I really loved these stories and recommend them to you.

Below is more praise plus a link to the title story. Just read it

STORIES

PEN/Hemingway Honorable MentionNovello Literary Award Finalist
Perpetual Folly’s 2011 Best Story Collection of the Year and SIBA Nominee, Best Short Fiction

“Like novels in nutshells, Alice Munro style”–Doris Betts

“Magical scenes, magical effects, vivid dreams, mysterious events. Birds sing through several stories, and by the end of the novella, there’s been a symphony of mockingbirds, whippoorwills, sparrows, frogs, dogs, bees, butterflies and more. Each lost soul connect to the natural world for healing and solace.”
– Deirdre Parker Smith, Salisbury Post

In Hudson’s fictional Ambler County, some of the characters know each other well, some drive by and wave, and some pass unaware they are connected by place and time. Hudson has captured the moment when rural life was still dominant in the Carolinas and able to charm a stranger into staying.Like birds blown off course in a storm, landing in an unfamiliar country, the characters in these stories need a place to roost, somewhere to settle long enough to learn the secrets of their own hearts.

• Read the title story, published in The Literarian at the Center for Fiction

Praise for Accidental Birds:

““Here is a field guide to the human species in transition….The three longest of these splendid stories are like novels in nutshells, Alice Munro style”–Doris Betts, author of Souls Raised from the Dead

“For any Southerner who’s ever wondered what it’s like to be a Yankee transplant, read Accidental Birds of the Carolinas… –  read more at North Carolina Literary Review Online, No. 21

“Hudson must believe in magic, and uses it in her writing, creating magical scenes, magical effects, vivid dreams, mysterious events,” says Deirdre Parker Smith of the Salisbury Post. “Birds sing through several stories, and by the end of the novella, there’s been a symphony of mockingbirds, whippoorwills, sparrows, frogs, dogs, bees, butterflies and more. Each lost soul connects to the natural world for healing and solace.”

“They arrived by Mustang, by marriage, by hitchhiking. The characters in Marjorie Hudson’s story collection, Accidental Birds of the Carolinas, have strayed — like vagrant birds — from familiar territory to reach a transfiguring moment in their lives. . . . Many of Hudson’s narratives explore themes of family — found, invented or inherited — navigating the often suffocating nature of belonging, or the catastrophes of reinvention.” — Kathryn Savage, Minneapolis-St. Paul Star-Tribune

After the Rain

The Kittehs Are Excited That I'm Back!

A Week at Wildacres

See that picture above?  I like to think that's Inspiration pouring down on Wildacres -- the idyllic retreat just off the Blue Ridge Parkway that was the scene of a week of writing, teaching, learning, partying, and generally enjoying being in the company of about a hundred like-minded people. 

For two and a half gruelling hours a day (okay, there was one day off,) I met with a group of aspiring novelists/memoirists in the cute little building with the purple door.  My class, five men, four women, was diverse in age, experience, and genre. There were three memoirs from the guys-- one set in a North Carolina mill town during the Depression, one about the past and present of of a remote Blue Ridge Valley and the boy who grew up there, and a series of startling adventurous moments from a fella making use of his military and law enforcement background.

The other two fellas were writing novels -- one that I would characterize as a novel of manners -- kind of John Updike/Ann Tyler-ish (I mean this as high praise, by the way.)  The other (a  young man still in college) is working on a thriller/crime fiction type thing about some very bad guys and the Russian mob. This one was in the Elmore Leonard camp -- lots of good dialogue.

The four ladies (I think this was the first time ever that women have been in the minority in one of my classes) were also quite diverse in their subject. One was a well-crafted culinary cozy with a cute, zaftig protagonist who is a caterer; a second was a highly original dystopia -- I wish I could share some of the really cool details -- but I can't; the third was what I would characterize as an apocalyptic semi-cozy with a fascinating premise; and the fourth was a novel based on family history, mostly set in the past and present of a remote section of Mexico -- an area controlled by drug cartels. 

As I said -- diverse. Never a dull moment. 

How, you may ask, can folks writing such different things comment on one another's work? Very well, as a matter of fact. I was impressed at the depth and precision of the various comments, as well as the helpful, polite, and, above all, kind way in which said comments were offered. 

I make a point of warning my students that they won't learn from cheerleadering. ( Oh, I think your work is just wonderful...) and that, because of time constraints, we will probably focus far more on what's wrong with the work than what's right with it. The intent is always to help the writer improve his or her work by pointing out what isn't working and suggesting ways of fixing it. And, boy, oh boy, this group was full of terrific suggestions!  It was a real pleasure to work with them -- thank you, Alaine, Alex, David, Gale, John,  Kim, Lourdes, Leon, and Les!  Well done, all!

There were many other classes going on -- poetry, novels, short stories, creative non-fiction -- as well as student and faculty readings, a Mexican party night, and the extremely

silly Gong Show on the last night in which many extremely silly skits were performed. I was in the traditional faculty skit, typecast as a wicked witch . . . what a world, what a world!

And, best of all, I added several thousand words -- all in the right order and pretty good 

words at that -- to the work in progress.

I'm Off...

I

I'm leaving today for a week long writing workshop at Wildacres. It's a great gig -- I lead a workshop for half of each day and the rest of the time is mine to squander ... er ... write.  And someone else is doing the cooking (it's not as good as mine but it's amazingly good for a big kitchen serving a hundred plus hungry campers writers.)

Internet access is limited and iffy so I won't be posting or blog visiting till July 8 --

 till then may the Force be with you!

Huzzah for the Glorious Fourth!

Pocket Plunder

What would Sherlock Holmes make of this collection that I gathered from the little bowl into which my husband empties his pockets every night? (There was loose change there too but I confiscated that for a clearer picture.)

It's like looking into a woman's purse as a guide to who she is and what she does.

I had to ask him what some of the things were -- but I'll leave it to you all to guess. Suffice it to say, John is a very busy fella.  

Sweat Therapy -- Suckering and Tying Up Tomatoes

Gardening gives one back a sense of proportion 

about everything -- except itself.

~ May Sarton ~ Plant Dreaming Deep, 1968

 

Oh Dear, Oh Dear . . .

I admired Justice Ginsberg's dissent to the Hobby Lobby decision. She and the other female justices all dissented -- it was the old white guys and the ever-enigmatic Justice Thomas who decided that Hobby Lobby's strongly held religious convictions trumped employees' rights to have birth control covered as a part of their health care. (Wondering if Viagra is covered... but I digress.)

I posted THIS LINK to Justice Ginsberg's very excellent reasons for her dissent on Facebook -- FB is full of outrage over this decision -- at least, that's what I see as most my FB friends tend to be of the liberal persuasion -- thinking that birth control is a part of a woman's health care and a matter between her and her physician -- as opposed to between her and her employer and her employer's religious beliefs.. 

Then I got this comment from a friend of a FB friend "No one is forcing anyone to work at Hobby Lobby. Let then use their freedom to work where they are free to kill their babies (with an iud or abortion.)"

 First of all, does this guy (yes, it was a guy) have any idea how difficult it is to find a job these days -- especially for the low wage workers who make up most of HL's work force? 

And I'm still trying to wrap my head around the concept of an IUD as a murder device -- as  I understand it, it prevents the implantation of a fertilized egg in the uterus -- as does the so -called morning after pill. 

What I see as an argument over birth control as a part of health benefits (and birth control pills are, indeed, sometimes prescribed for medical reasons-- not just for 'recreational purposes' as one bright Right light said,) is for others all about rejecting the ACA/ Obamacare. If I learned that Hobby Lobby had refused to sell stuff imported from China -- a country whose embrace of forced abortion is well known -- I might take those deeply held religious convictions of theirs more seriously.

 Another thing is that I don't see a fertilized egg as a person. Especially not when there are so very many already born and suffering persons in our world. I am at a loss to understand how people of good will can choose to expend time and money protecting a fertilized ovum in an unwilling woman as their life work -- could it be that it's easier to call names and feel righteous than it is actually to confront  and attempt to relieve real suffering? 

Real suffering is dirty and smelly and complicated. Choose to take on a special needs child -- it's a life time commitment. Work with the homeless -- you may get your hands dirty. World hunger, disease, injustice -- there's lots of it and it's out there waiting for you godly folks. And people -- real, sentient, self-aware, on the ground people are waiting too.