Birds on a screen
March 26, 2012 § Leave a comment
At the Minneapolis Institute of Art. Not sure why I like it so much, but I do. The gray-on-gray. The sense of movement. There is at once a feeling of life’s spark and of calm.
Bad dog, Danny
March 26, 2012 § 4 Comments
You know the black dog?
He is black as night. Especially in this snow storm where I first took his picture. Remember?
Here he is a few days ago, exploring a very wonderful tree.
Well, this Danny-boy has a sweet, affectionate disposition but a bad, bad happy of chewing. As a puppy he chewed the cords off my father’s power tools. And the legs of the porch furniture. And shoes, of course. And anything else he fancied.
He’s gotten much better, but one of his favorite things still seems to be chewing packages that get dropped on the front porch. Usually we try to leave a note or put in special instructions: Packages must go INSIDE! Or, Do not deliver package without a signature!
Guess what came at some hour of the day when we happened to be (or be focused) elsewhere?
My first shipment of my books.
Guess who chewed the box open and spilled books all over the (dewy, wet, morning lawn)? Guess who put teeth or claw marks in at least half of them?
That black dog.
Good thing it was only a shipment of ten copies. Good thing I’ve learned to find humor in unfortunate circumstances. Good thing for that dog, and good thing for me.
I scooped them up in a half-panic, with my mother’s help, and wiped them down. A few were still presentable. The others will be family copies, I suppose.
We’re still dog people around here. Don’t worry. But Danny’s position in the family was, that afternoon, somewhat up for review. Good thing for him he’s the friend of the little Shar Pei we’re all smitten with. It keeps him around despite his unruly antics. (His kindly brown eyes and affectionate pet-me nudges may also help.)
And, nevertheless, what a little satisfaction it is to see this pile. A little beat up. But mine.
More on fog
March 25, 2012 § Leave a comment
My Midwest has been making me supremely happy with these dewy, foggy mornings. I step outside and breathe in the air with a feeling akin to relief. We had these rarely in Colorado, and I am sure they were not quite the same. Not the same cool thickness, not the same soaked grasses.
Today I moved to Wisconsin; more on that later. But one of my last days in Iowa started with such a gray-white, England-like morning and I had to slide on shoes – even while still in my pajamas – to catch it.
Is it possible magic things can happen in nature’s fog? Does magic dwell there somehow?
Tiptoeing around outside, I swear I felt it seeping into my skin. I stopped. Hushed. Held out my hands in welcome.
In the spring
March 23, 2012 § 1 Comment
“In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.” – Margaret Atwood
Greening
March 22, 2012 § Leave a comment
In Iowa March usually thaws and snows. Thaws a hesitant little and snows a whole lot. Then thaws with a bit more confidence, to be set back perhaps with another storm or two. Doesn’t it? I keep waiting for the freak blizzard (which really isn’t freak) and yet it doesn’t come. This year March has surprised us with a steady stretch of 80-degree days. Follow that with mild/warm temperatures, overcast skies, and intermittent rains.
The world greens quickly.
We seemed to notice each phase of green overtaking tan, of grasses rushing out of dormancy to full spring life.
I swear I could see a difference in the depth of green from day’s beginning to day’s end.
Now we have small lilac bushes putting forth buds.
The trees in the orchard prepare for leaves. Flowers and fruit to follow.
The strawberry patch is dotted with merry saw-toothed leaves.
I smell dirt. The damp of grass. Inside we drink tea, but outside we abandon jackets. We wipe muddy paws, and leave shoes at the door.
Spring.
Riding the Neighbors’ Horses – Paperback
March 17, 2012 § 2 Comments
The novel is up on Amazon and ready for purchase! Be angels and pass it along to any horse-crazy kids (or grown-ups) you know, won’t you?
You can find it here: Riding the Neighbors’ Horses
Driftwood collage
March 16, 2012 § 2 Comments
Here’s a snapshot of a section of a driftwood collage by Minnesota artist George Morrison (1919-2000). He drew his materials – and his inspiration – from the shores of Lake Superior. The full collage is on display at the Minneapolis Institute of Art. (I kind of want it.)
White Bread
March 16, 2012 § Leave a comment
I wrote a book about ultrasoft, mass-produced sliced white bread because I wanted to understand America’s fraught relationship to industrial eating in all its contradictory ferment. Over the past 100 years, few foods have been as revered and reviled as industrial white bread. -Aaron Bobrow-Strain
I’m eager to get my hands on this author’s new book, White Bread: A Social History of the Store-Bought Loaf. It sounds fascinating! And maybe a little depressing. Golly, the food-writing craze is just getting bigger and bigger, isn’t it? Here’s a link to Bobrow-Strain’s article “What Would Great-Grandma Eat?” which was adapted from his book.
Kinds of Honey 