Where All the Ladders Start

Our return to the West Coast has proven to be much-needed and all the bay laurel and oaks are shaking our hands on the hillsides. I've been running up hills and making soup and writing a few things here and there. We're looking after our favorite dogs and every day is some sort of small return toward a glorious beastie nature. Being home for me is always filled with strong emotions: a sort of powerful homesickness that makes me want to move back here full-time immediately, and another feeling of an energizing vibrancy, a sort of plugging into an old rooted power source and seeing where it might send you next. 

The novel is starting to open again to me. My feedback is coming in and, with some encouraging words from friends and readers, I am BEGINNING to get excited about heading back in to that world. I want to make this a really good book. As long as that takes: months or years. So, soon I'll start the largest of all the rewrites. Soon. Maybe this week. Maybe even today. We shall see.

Meanwhile, on the mountain, the weather turned all drizzle and cool yesterday afternoon. On a walk with the dogs, I was inspired by all the green. 

Some sneaky wild flowers are already coming up. I tried to write a poem about it yesterday. It was awful. So I made a fire, and tea, and read other people's poems instead. The green of the day made me want to make a soup the same color as the earth. 

Today, I write letters and try to finish that failed poem from yesterday. Maybe some afternoon wine tasting? Doesn't that sound like a good vacation plan? My brother has started a new wine blog which is wonderful. Check it out over here: Solo Syrah . Also, my dear girl Trish Harnetiaux has started a new project with her man Jacob Ware, over here: Steel Drum in Space. Their film, "You Should Be a Better Friend," just one a silver at the Spokane Film Festival. Also, today, you can find me over here talking about my writing space: Aggaspletch.  Also, I have a new poem coming out in Zzyzyva soon, which I'm very thrilled about.  

Tomorrow, is one of my favorite days of the year. It's also my mother's birthday. I went to her painting studio downtown and made some cards. I have yet to send them. I'm so late with my correspondence, but my heart is not late. My heart is in the right space and time. And it is sending you so much love for the year, so much love for your life. 

Now, "I must lie down where all the ladders start/in the foul rag and bone shop of the heart." Today, I will try to follow Yeats's advice and be satisfied with the heart.