Saturday, January 05, 2008


Snowy Saturday Morning.

Top photo: My prized contorted hazelnut. I call it my twisty tree.

Bottom: Whatty-woe running towards the house.

I wanted some pictures of the yard before the snow melts today. The tree was one of the first things we planted when we bought our property in 1999. I know the bottom photo is a bad composition, but I like it. It shows the grass stubble poking out of the earth and the vitality of our black cat as she stretches herself to run.

The cat came with the property, too. She was half-wild and had just had a kitten which she was trying to protect and feed although she was skinny and vulnerable herself. She was called the "neighborhood cat" by the people we bought the house from because no one was responsible for her, although people sometimes set out food for her. Now she is part of our family. We called her "Whatty-woe" because we thought she'd already been through a lot of sadness. She's very tame and sweet now. But still has the wild within. The black cat in my novel was inspired by her.


ggw07 said...

"The cat came with the property, too." Marvelous. Black feral cat on weedy ground under snow. Great image.

ggw07 said...

I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A bird will fall frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.
D. H. Lawrence

The challenge is to write a character like this.



About Me

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Northwest Ohio, United States
"I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken


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Fave Painting: Eden

Fave Painting:  Eden

Fave Painting: The Three Ages of Man and Death

Fave Painting:  The Three Ages of Man and Death
by Albrecht Dürer

From the First Chapter

The Secret of Hurricanes : That article in the Waterville Scout said it was Shake- spearean, all that fatalism that guides the Kennedys' lives. The likelihood of untimely death. Recently, another one died in his prime, John-John in an airplane. Not long before that, Bobby's boy. While playing football at high speeds on snow skis. Those Kennedys take some crazy chances. I prefer my own easy ways. Which isn't to say my life hasn't been Shake-spearean. By the time I was sixteen, my life was like the darkened stage at the end of Hamlet or Macbeth. All littered with corpses and treachery.

My Original Artwork: Triptych

My Original Artwork:  Triptych



Little Deer

Little Deer



Looking Forward, Looking Back

Looking Forward, Looking Back