creative ramblings & reverie

Friday, August 23, 2019

The Girl Who Drew Bears



I am pleased to announce the arrival, in print, of "The Girl Who Drew Bears."  This story is included in Issue 7, "Between," of Severine, published this morning.

"Lately, it was paws.  Great, flat, slipper-like bear feet with five serious claws.  The bear's claw was a talisman often included in medicine bundles, Rowena knew; warriors wore necklaces of bear claws to bring them power and strength."



image:  Jackie Morris

Norwegian Wood


A short story from some years ago, "Norwegian Wood," has just been published in Sweet Tree Review, Volume 4, Issue III.

The "antagonist" in it sings the old Beatles song over and over, and makes doors.  "The house they rented was soon overrun with doors, cellular as a honeycomb.  They had Dutch doors both front and back, brass-inlay doors on all the kitchen cabinets, a teal door with a peacock's tail of stained glass on the medicine cabinet, and something that should have been on a Renaissance cathedral instead hiding the cluttered recess off the bedroom where they piled shoes and dirty laundry."



image:  thisoldhouse.com

Wednesday, August 14, 2019

Writing Spaces: Living Poetry


A few notes from a recent visit to Tor House and Hawk Tower in Carmel, on the ocean, the poetic domain of Robinson and Una Jeffers. The structures built of coastal stones brought up one by one from the beach (mornings for writing poetry, afternoons for hauling and situating stones).  Hawk Tower evokes the sixty-five Irish round towers from early Medieval times—originally bell towers and lookouts, or used to collect magnetic energy. The place is quintessential poetry—words everywhere.  On beams, over door frames, chiseled in stones, in the very fabric of the house and gardens.

A Welsh epigram, "Let the grandchildren gather the apples"; lines from The Faerie Queen; a motto in French, "Do well and let them talk"; another in Latin, "Lovers construct their own dreams"; Vergil's "Easy is the descent";
and on a stone in the garden, "County Mayo." The date of Thomas Hardy's death chiseled into a stone in the front room; a headstone for the English bulldog in the garden, honored also by a poem.

. cabinets of books
. an unabridged dictionary lying open, as my father's always did
in house and garden, pieces of stone or tile from all around the world:  tiny faces from Teotihuacan, lava from Mt. Vesuvius and from Hawaii, glassy obsidian, fossil shells, green Connemara marble (with Celtic cross), Big Sur jade, ballast from ships and slate from billiard tables, painted tiles on the garden path from Italy and Spain, Babylonian temple tile (recalling the many languages spoken by Jeffers's father and himself), fragments of Ossian's grave and of green ceramic from the Temple of Heaven in Peking, Roman mosaic from North Africa, a mill stone from a visit to Taos
. a Roman statue from John Singer Sargent, boy and dolphin
. a little worn stone goddess, Chinese
. gargoyles (rain gutters) on the tower
. the kitchen, also with a sea window, built over an Ohlone cooking site (fragments of abalone shell); a stone mortar and pestle also invokes them

. a Welsh dresser in the kitchen, with earthenware dishes (deep orange Jugtown pottery from North Carolina) and more mottos; a bell from the Carmel Mission

. in the dining room:
wood carvings by a gravestone cutter from Monterey
handmade floor tiles (pink dust from the soft tiles loosened by square dancing)
Una's grandmother's spinning wheel
a Narwhal tusk (evoking Una's unicorn)

. the moor gate and the sea gate
. map of Ireland marking the round towers

. the window beside the bed holding the ocean
. Una's desk for writing letters
. music everywhere, a melodeon in every room; playing a chord on the piano also played by Gershwin, Charlie Chaplin, Charles Lindbergh, James Cagney, Martha Graham


image:  Hawk Tower

Sunday, July 21, 2019

Writing Spaces (Lunar)



“The sun is a thief: she lures the sea
and robs it. The moon is a thief:
he steals his silvery light from the sun.
The sea is a thief: it dissolves the moon.”

—Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire




Image:  Arthur Beecher Carles - Silence, 1908


Thursday, July 18, 2019

Writing Spaces



In summertime, writing the summer days that were.  I've just reread Rumer Godden's exquisite The Greengage Summer, sunshot, drenched with nostalgia and the taste of the ripe greengages.  For me it was apricots, and I've strung a hammock between two big apricot trees in a story (half finished) about the first moon walk and the summer day in Santa Fe when the child I was then watched the broadcast.



image:  E. Phillips Fox, A Love Story

Full Fathom Five


My first mystery has been published, in Issue #4 of the Canadian journal Black Dog Review.  (It's been said, "Her name is Christie.  She writes mysteries.")

"Full Fathom Five" is definitely cozy, rather than Noir (despite le chien noir of its setting), more about dogs and Santa Cruz, art and Greek archaeology, and the Shakespeare garden the retired detective is plotting, than about any horrific crime.

By pure coincidence, Sir Kenneth Branagh was planting a Shakespeare garden too in his most recent film, All Is True—good publicity, which I greatly appreciate.

Some of the dog walkers involved in the story can be seen here—

"Back outside on the oceanfront, Big Tom, an ex-Marine who reminisced from time to time about parties with Ken Kesey and Jerry Garcia, told Gabriel he'd seen nobody in yesterday's early dark.  Contrarily petite and always stylish Marilynn, with her Shih Tzus, Xishen and Chenjinggu, which she'd told him translated as Joy God and Old Quiet Lady, agreed with the artist that there had been a pair of surfers on the beach.  Her sharp eyes missed little; she'd been a scathing columnist in Washington, DC much of her life."



image:  Black Dog Review