This ‘n’ That – An anthology of short stories and drawings’
I’m very excited to announce that my collection of short stories, poems and whimsical drawings is now available on Amazon, in a paperback edition. Some of the stories will make you laugh, some will make you cry. I hope all of them will make you feel … feel something lovely. I certainly enjoyed throwing myself into writing them. I’d love to hear what you think, so please–don’t forget to leave a review on Amazon after you’ve read the book.
While walking through the woods near home the other day, I got to thinking about how freezing cold it was, and about the trees. Have you ever wondered about trees? What they’re thinking? What they’re feeling? Here’s my take on it. I’m including one of my pastel paintings to help illustrate it.
Winter
Empty, gray sky. And cold. Very cold. I know the sun is out there someplace, but it gives no warmth. I’m standing alone, unprotected, yet … the sap shivers in my veins and tells me I’m still alive. Comforting. I miss the birds, though.
Still, my friends are standing nearby, tall and strong, if also bare and defenseless like myself. Many of them are not as strong as they used to be. The winters have taken their toll. None of us has much to say, but we can feel each other and know we are still together.
Most of us, anyway. A few have fallen in the past year. I heard the dull thuds as they toppled, felt the earth shake. For a while, they lay randomly, some leaning drunkenly against old friends, some stretched out along the ground, among the fallen leaves and broken branches. The deer nibbled at their bark, the squirrels scrambled over their twisted limbs, not yet crumbled into the earth. Sad, certainly, but to be expected. It was a tough year—aren’t they all?—so some of them were bound to have succumbed to the storms. And some simply got too old and tired to stand. They’re not entirely lost to the world, though. No. Their spirits, their memories are with me still.
As is the empty nest that clings to my top branches. The little ones are gone, of course. Off to live their own lives, as is proper. They never glance back once they leave me. I wonder if they even remember me at all. Well, that’s life, I guess. In the spring, the hawks will return, to freshen up the old nest for a new family. And so it goes.
The forest is quiet and still, but not abandoned. There is movement now and then, defying the cold. I wonder what it must be like, to propel oneself along on one’s own branches, as those moving along the path are doing. Free and confident. Maybe scary, too. After all, there’s a lot to be said for the stability of occupying one’s own space, surrounded by others who are doing the same, for as long as we can. The beings who matter to us the most stay put. They don’t leave us, not until they disappear, slowly, to become united with the earth from which they emerged so long ago. Safer that way.
When I researched and wrote Riva’s Journey: a Memoir (KDP, 2021), I never thought that the places and people I wrote about would become the topic of today’s headlines. Reading the latest news about Kyiv and Tarnipol and Lviv brings back pictures of the places my grandmother left more than 100 years ago. The spellings may be a bit different now, but the places are the same.
Ukraine has had an extraordinarily difficult history, situated as it is between Poland and Russia, which have fought over this land for centuries. My heart goes out to the Ukrainian people, who are continuing their struggle to claim their own space in the world. My grandmother would have been proud of them.
Obviously, arts and crafts fairs were very few, if any, this summer. I was very lucky to have been able to participate in one in my own community last month. It turned out to be pretty successful for me, since I sold a lot of my books. It was also a lot of fun.
I met some neighbors I hadn’t known before, and had a chance to chat with plenty of others, everyone appropriately masked and distance, of course. I think we’re all finding out just how creative we can be in meeting the challenges of new situations. They say that whatever doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, right?
I’ve spent a lot of time these past couple of weeks getting ready for my book signing at The Frugal Muse and Music bookstore, which is a week from today! In case you haven’t already marked it on your calendars, it’s: Wednesday, Jan. 29th, 7 to 9 pm, at the Frugal Muse, 75th & Lemont Rd., Darien, southeast corner, in a small shopping center. There are 5 authors: Kate Gingold, Dennis Baritzal, myself, Angela Holtz, and Karen Sjoblom, who between us have published books in a variety of genres. We’ll each be speaking briefly about our writing, and Joe Eddy Brown will entertain us with his music. There’ll be plenty of opportunity to speak with each of us individually, and don’t forget–refreshments! So do plan on coming for a fun evening.
When I first began publishing, I had no idea how much work it would be to get out in front and let people know about it. Except for a fortunate few, the days of turning over a manuscript to a publisher and letting them take it from there while you brush off your hands and get to work on your next opus are over. But on the plus side, it’s a lot of fun participating in these events, finding new author friends as well as new readers. A whole new career emerges! Who knew?
Lipkin Gallery 