The Tale of Briar Bank
#5 in the Cottage Tales
Nightshade
#16 in the China Bayles series
Forget reading my book review (previous post). Go read my son Michael's blog. I am very glad I wasn't there to watch him climb a 60' spruce tree to rescue his digital camera from the clutches of a helium balloon made out of a garbage bag. Mothers don't want to know about that sort of adventure until it's over. But I had to laugh at his report of it, and I think you will, too.
Sunday was a day of phone calls, with all three of my kids checking in with Mothers' Day wishes, each one special and pretty darn wonderful in his or her own way. Bob (in Reno NV) is a single dad with three kids, two in college. Robin (in Woodland Park CO) gives most of her free time to the Boy Scouts, where she is a dedicated volunteer, but still manages to find time for her own college work. To honor Mother's Day, Michael (my Juneau son, married to Sheryl, with children Becky and little Michael) posted a couple of old photos that I thought you might like to see. They're here, on his blog.
Top left is a Christmas photograph, probably 1967, when we lived in Champaign, IL (The giveaway clue is that desk in the background, which at one time belonged to my grandmother. I wrote my first short story at that desk, when I was about eight years old. We sold it when we moved out to Berkley.) Michael is obviously thrilled with his present, isn't he? Looks like a record, maybe "The Grinch," which the kids got about that time. The lower right photo was taken a year or two later, also at Christmas, in Berkley. The other two photos are of Sheryl and her mom. A great Mom's Day gift, guys--thanks!
And here's another very nice thing, Michael's first published newspaper column in the Juneau Empire! Some day, when he has written a dozen novels or books of non-fiction, you can say that you read him first here. He says that I once declared that my life's ambition was to see one of my children's work published. I don't remember saying that, exactly, but anything's possible. Anyway, I'm thrilled--wouldn't you be, if one of your children broke into print? Michael, I'm pretty darn proud of you.
Reading note. Writing is not hard. Just get paper and pencil, sit down, and write it as it occurs to you. The writing is easy--it's the occuring that's hard.--Stephen Leacock
Hey, Michael and Sheryl, I love your present! I opened a package today to find this cool sweatshirt, which says: Careful, or you'll wind up in my novel. Thanks, guys. I couldn't wait until Christmas to put it on.
And yes, tbe sweatshirt has it right. Writers are like magpies, they'll pick up anything that attracts their attention and take it back to the nest. I keep a notebook with me, and jot down things I see. I tune my ears at the beauty parlor in Bertram--you'd be amazed at the things people say when the hair dryers are going and the ladies in their blue hair think you're reading a magazine. I love Texas names, like Billie Bob and Janie Rae and Tootles. And barbeque joints where Big Tom keeps the pickles in a plastic jug shaped like a pig, and gives you barbeque on paper plates with plastic spoons. One woman flipped me the bird at a gas pump in Buda fifteen years ago: she's in Thyme of Death. And then there was a neighbor who lived down the road from us once. She wore her bleached Big Hair, teased and tucked and moussed, when she went out to mow her grass in a red halter that barely contained her Dolly Parton boobs and white shorts that were just this side of a G-string. She's in Spanish Dagger. So yeah, be careful.
Today: worked for the second day on the copyedited manuscript of The Tale of Hawthorn House. Good, clean, helpful copyediting, very professional. Hope to finish it tomorrow, just in time to start on the page proofs of Spanish Dagger. I love this business of switching periods, voices, styles. It's the way an actor must feel, moving from one part to another, never playing the same role twice.
Reading note. --In a way nobody sees a flower--really--it is so small--we haven't the time--and to see takes time...So I said to myself--I'll paint what I see--what the flower is to me but I'll paint it big and they will be surprised into taking the time to look at it--I will make even busy New Yorkers take time to see what I see of a flower. Georgia O'Keeffe
This, from my brother John Webber, who lives in Florida:
You have your pets, we have ours. This shows 3/4 of our crane family (papa is off camera). Mama is in the middle, flanked by the kids. When we first saw this pair, they were golden balls of fluff. They're now flying, and we saw them attempt their first wobbly practice flights out by the pond. These must have been vigilant (and lucky) parents. In our seven years here, this is the first pair of chicks (generally, these sand hills lay only one or two eggs) we've seen survive to this stage. Couple of times racoons or foxes got the eggs from nesting pairs before they even hatched. It's been a treat watching them grow.
Reading note. The great hurrah about wild animals is that they exist at all, and the greater hurrah is the actual moment of seeing them. Because they have a nice dignity, and prefer to have nothing to do with me, not even as the simple objects of my vision. they show me by their very wariness what a prize it is simply to open my eyes and behold.--Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
Lucky Becky and Michael, my Juneau grandkids, waking up in a room hung with sweaters knitted by loving hands. Even if kids' handmade knitwear is not high on your list of Objects to be Prized, you'll have to admire Sheryl's display. Thanks, Sheryl, for sharing all those wonderful things. Love is the invisible thread that is knitted into every stitch.
It's Halloween and the big topic of conversation on the Wittig Family Blog, built by son Michael and D-I-L Sheryl, is the COSTUME. Granddaughter Becky may want to be a ladybug; here she is, winged but not quite fully garbed. To see Grandson Michael in his bee costume, doing what bees do best, go here, or click on the blogroll in the sidebar.
