Remember this entry?

Below the cut are photos of that same branch after it leafed out (leaved?), and those weird snaky shoots as they look now. Maybe someone knows what they are – the plants with the pretty little white bells?

To round out the Friday Five, I also included a photo of my angel birdbath and a blue columbine.

Have a floriferous weekend, all!

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Thank you, New York Stock Exchange, for closing down on Good Friday every year. I went on a date with my honey yesterday. We went to lunch, then a movie – “I Love You, Man.” (I know, but we didn’t want anything serious. Paul Rudd does awkward so, so well.)

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“People don’t read fiction for information. They read it for emotion.”
Sinclair Lewis

Whatever you may think of the Twilight series, there is no denying that those books are PACKED FULL, squashed down, then PACKED EVEN TIGHTER until they’re bursting at the seams … with emotion.

I was reminded of that while I watched the movie.

It’s not just the cold, sparkly vampire love, it’s the intensity of emotion that brings readers back for more.

In six months, my book will be born. I hope people like it, but I know many will NOT, because that’s the nature of art. Some people like primary colored cubes and others prefer pastel impressionist paintings. I’m mentally prepared for bad reviews. After all, lots of people rejected this book before someone said, YES.

But one thing I know for sure: I write with emotion. Even my critics cannot deny that.


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I haven’t posted any photos lately, so I ventured out with my camera. I like the blurred camellias in the background of this spring bud, with its filament of spiderweb clinging to it.

( More photos )

Happy Easter and Passover!

We enjoy candlelight on our menorah and Christmas lights on our tree.

I hope whatever holidays you celebrate this season have been full of friends, family, warmth and light.

We've had a wonderfully lazy day ... presents this morning, our big Christmas meal mid-day, a game of The Office on DVD after lunch (my son won), and a snowy walk with the dogs this afternoon.

My son has been enjoying his gift from Grandma and Grandpa - "The Simpsons - Season Ten" - a show they've probably never seen, but obediently located for him, at his request.

Here are some friends enjoying their Christmas meal before a burly bully showed up!

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It was extra-exciting to stop by Annie Bloom’s Books this evening to pick up my pre-ordered copy of lisa_schroeder’s new book, FAR FROM YOU. As I looked for a parking space, I heard honking, glanced to my left, and saw a car skidding down the hill toward me, a look of horror on the driver’s face. I gasped and veered into a snowbank to avoid him.

Chains, people.

Or studded tires.

Please.

“But I’ve got four wheel drive, I can go anywhere.”

I’m guessing that’s what the guy with the out-of-control car said confidently, just before he started skidding toward my minivan.

Somehow he didn’t hit me, I drove out of the snowbank with my trusty chains, and found a parking space. Whew! Because dealing with a dented car the day before Christmas Eve would've been the opposite of fun.

Back to the book!

I've read FAR FROM YOU ... but not in its final form. So much happens during the revision process. I really can't wait to read the book!

And now ...

( ... final snow-fascination photos: )

I know for those of you who live in traditionally wintry places, Portlanders’ fascination with our ARCTIC BLAST 08 is amusing … but truly, this kind of weather doesn’t happen here often. Some winters we don’t get any snow at all, and even when we do most of our snow melts within a day or two.

A week ago today, when we got our first ARCTIC BLAST (1), we rushed out to enjoy sledding and tromping through snow.

Yesterday’s ARCTIC BLAST (2) poured down a foot of dry snow, which was frosted overnight with a layer of ice. So walking sounds like this: crack-punch … crack-punch … crack-punch.

I took my dogs out for a brief walk. (They didn’t really like the crack-punching effect.)

Did we let this stop us?



Heck no!


( Cut for many photos of extreme snow fascination. )

Photo behind the cut.
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I have been meaning to do this for weeks, but finally I saw jenlibrarian's roundup of birthday flowers this morning and went, "Ack! I'm late I'm late I'm late!"

Crocus Morning:



Don't they look cold? There's a thin film of frost on them.


( Crocus Explosion: )

Behind the cut:

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So much potential!
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Just another flower photo ... you can skip if you're tired of them.

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… gardening!

Yes, it’s January, the month when seed catalogs land in the mailbox.

This is the time of year when verdant visions sustain us for the next few months. Soon I’ll begin planning plantings for my plot.

Then I will start some seeds indoors, and I will dream of bright blooms and snappy peas, while the tiny seeds waken in the warm soil.

I meant to make a little slideshow of my garden plot at the end of the season, but never did.

I did make one today, but photobucket keeps insisting that I've got an invalid image. Sigh. I'll just post single photos, instead.

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Autumn is entering my yard.

These are flowering woodbine berries.

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From this:





( To this: )

I stopped after three berries - they were so plump and ripe and purple - so I could bring you this photo:

Monday Morning Warm-Up:

Where are you? Be literal if you want to. Describe what you see, and in doing so, help us feel what you're feeling right now. If you want, try this from the point of view of a character in your WIP.


I sit at a desk covered with:

baseball photos
pens
papers
seashells
mosaic tiles (various shades of purple) and a pair of tile nippers (dusty from disuse)
a camera dock
a children’s books-themed cigar box purse
an “I Read Banned Books” bracelet from the ALA
a stapler
a tall sweaty glass of iced tea

I see my garden through the window, and I hear belching from the family room.

My big rambling rose (really … it’s technically a ‘rambler’) slumps over in front of my office window. It’s a “Paul’s Himalayan Musk” rose and if you click on the name, you’ll see what it should look like when it feels happy and supported. Mine is no longer happy and, in a fury of self-destruction, came tumbling off its support today. A week of heavy rains will do that to a ramblin’ rose.

I hear two eight-year-olds watching “The Sand Lot” in the other room. Cole’s friend E seems extravagantly fond of belching. I never realized how lucky I am that Cole is mostly a peer-pressured recreational belcher.

I feel the pain of inspiration.

No, I literally feel the pain of inspiration. It hurts when I take a deep breath.

I dunno what I did last Saturday … but I ripped something … or pulled something … or … well, the Physician’s Assistant yesterday (I finally broke down after nine days of pain and went to the walk-in clinic) claims I must have torn my chest wall.

Can that be right? It sounds so fatal and incapacitating. He described it as ( vegetarians, avert your eyes: )

You can almost smell them, can't you?



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