Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Has anyone . . .

reading this ever suffered from re-writer's block?

I mean, I have this swell studio


in this really swell place





with some absolutely swell people.



ok, so the pictures have been altered a bit for privacy purposes


All the hard work has been done. The book has been written. It has a title:


The Ghost/Thief
(shameless self-promotion)

If it is any good my publisher will probably take it. I don't want to sound too positive because my grandmother always told me that to boast is to bring down the evil eye on yourself.

But here I am, procrastinating, taking pictures, writing this blog . . .
Hey, it's all art, right?

Stay tuned-


Thursday, September 18, 2014

And now . . .

I'm off to Virginia Center for Creative Arts (hereafter referred to as VCCA) for a two week writing residency.
ok, that's an easel, yes. but behind the easel is the barn where the studios are.

The purpose of the above heretofore mentioned residency is to attempt, nay, to Succeed in finishing, completing, concluding and drawing to a close book the second in the greatly beforementioned Summerhood Island series.
note Summerhood Island in script under title


Why, you may wonder to yourself, (or even out loud) is she writing in this peculiar, unusual, nay, even abnormal and irregular way?


Mostly because I can. And right soon now I am going to have to get serious, buckle down and put my nose to the grindstone (ouch)
and write at a middle reader level.

Please, all of you who are just about to make some clever retort to that last remark; hold your respective tongues. Or hold another's tongue, if one happens to be within reach . Ick


Anyway, once you have gathered up all the extraneous words in this post and thrown them out the back door you will be left with this:

I'm outta here for a while. To come back with my new book
2nd in the Summerhood Island series -
Summer of the Ghost/Thief
 

or on it. 


I shall send you juicy tidbits from the  reading and writing world so you won't forget me.

Until I return, I remain
yr hmble and obdnt srvnt

Friday, July 11, 2014

I just got back


 from my week’s "vacation" on that island suspiciously similar to Bayberry Island, otherwise known as Cuttyhunk .  


So much crammed into five days on the island and two days of travel.  Time spent with older relatives and newer ones.  The newer relatives tended to have less hair and wear less clothing.  


Here is Will doing a brilliant imitation of his uncle Matthew at a similar age, and his great grandpa Jay in his later years. 

Notice the complete lack of butt and the chicken legs.  This seems to be a trait which has been passed down generations even when there was no genetic link.  

This also holds true for Will’s twin
sister Kenley, who has somehow managed to capture my mother’s dramatic genes out of thin air.


This was a week of family, on and off the island.  And it was a week of juxtaposition - of past, present, and future.

I began to write when I first lived on Cuttyhunk.  And here I am over thirty years later, and I’m doing a book signing as a fundraiser for the same Cuttyhunk library that saved my life those first quiet and lonely springs on the island.
My character Jessie  Silva and I both read our way through that library.

On this last trip I was witness to the Fourth of July golf cart parade, held this year on the fifth due to hurricane Arthur, who graced us with his presence on the fourth.  


I was around for the first Fourth of July golf cart parade.

And leaving the island after my whirlwind trip, those of us on the ferry were fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of the Charles Morgan, last of the wooden whaleboats, restored and docked temporarily in New Bedford harbor.


I had no idea where this blog was going when I began it; but where it has gone is full circle.  From my father’s skinny legs
to my toddler grand nephew’s chicken thighs, seeing  my mother’s dramatic flair mirrored in my grand niece’s face. 
Three decades of a Fourth of July parade, watched this year from the lawn of the library that saved my sanity so many lonely winters and springs, that same library where I was setting up for a book signing of my own book, a book about a girl who lives on an island.  The island so suspiciously similar to Cuttyhunk, with an old-fashioned library almost exactly like the one whose lawn I sat on for the signing.

Whaleboats,
parades,
generations.

This is the second book I’ve written about this island, and there will be more.  It’s an island rich in history and full of potential for the future.  It is generations of drama, of continuity and of change. 


Leaving Cuttyhunk this past week I realize I may have had to add physical land mass to Bayberry in order to fit all my character Jessie’s adventures in, but even at its original size,
it’s an island far too full of life to fit into just one book.

Sunday, June 29, 2014

So I’m going away


but just for a week this time, up to my own Bayberry Island.  On the way I’ll visit my mother, who probably won’t remember me, an aunt who certainly will, perhaps a cousin or two.  Once I’m on my island I’ll have my sister and my nephew, my brother-in-law and his daughter and her twins.

My family has stretched in a different direction, away from my father’s side, most of whom are gone, and the rest far away.  My partner’s family is on the West Coast and I haven’t seen them in years.  On my mother’s side I have family, but illness and proximity have kept me from really getting to know the cousins and their children.  My foster child and my grandchild live seven hours away, an impossible drive for me. They have their own lives; ones that I’m not really a part of now.  And that’s okay, I was there when they needed me to be there.

And so, by virtue of my time on the island my family has stretched into my sister and her husband’s.  It’s funny in a way, because for more than twenty years I ran away from family.  I lived alone, traveled alone, and spent as much time as possible with strangers.  When I needed family I made my own.  Now as I grow older and more frail I am slowly reconnecting with the very people I distanced myself from.  Now I can’t really remember why I ran in the first place, although at the time it seemed the only way I could live my life.

Times change, people change.  Isn’t that the way the saying goes?  And I do believe that. I believe people can change.  Because I know I have changed.

I don't need to hide away on an island 14 miles from the mainland any longer. When I go there I go to reconnect. with people I know, and those I have yet to meet. I go to reconnect with the past that was a vital part of shaping who I am now. And with my nephew, with my sister's grandchildren I can begin to experience a future I would never have imagined in my youth, but which feels like home now.


Saturday, April 12, 2014

Hello, this is your captain speaking…

Please fasten your seatbelts
as we prepare for our descent
into the last of our Antarctic blog posts.

Please enjoy your penguins and seals as after this we will be sailing into warmer Summerhood Island weather.

We have enjoyed our stint as your tour guides.
 Feel free to contact us with requests for autographs or personalized pictures.  
And we thank you for your interest.






After South Georgia, we had two days at sea filled with lectures on Penguins, who governs Antarctica and how do we do science there, an amazing tour of the bridge,
and lectures on the do's and don'ts to follow when actually setting foot on the Antarctic continent.  After years of various countries on various bases crapping up a huge area around them with waste there are finally rules in place to try and take care of what's left of this pristine continent.

Our first stop is Deception Bay.  After a precarious threading through narrow
channels,
the captain brings us into a harbor surrounded by a volcanic crater.





We were only on the island about an hour, but in that time this frozen area thawed into a running stream.





Next up was Pendulum Bay, home of the famous geothermal spring.  If we were brave enough, they said, we could swim.  Swim.  In Antarctica.  I had visions of a lovely deep thermal hot tub pool.
nina getting ready to undress
Not quite.  But I did it anyway, and I have a certificate to prove how stupid I am.

yes, it was warm. but only for about 6 feet from the shore. then the chill of the air and ocean overcame the heat from the sand. you can't see it in these photos but there was ice floating in the water about ten feet out from us. 


And then we're done with islands, and actually setting foot on the coast.  Chinstrap

and Adelie penguins,
you lookin' at me?
some serious snow climbing



up to see rookeries
yes, that's all penguin poop.
and not so serious snow sliding back down.
nina follows our new tour guide
And the zodiac trip around all of the icebergs and ice shelves,

touching an iceberg
threading our way through
complete with wildlife
leopard seal

waddel  seal
one lonely chinstrap catches a ride
and a champagne toast.

This trip was not on my bucket list.  It was my bucket list.  And it was everything I had imagined
and so much more.