I have to admit, this is not the Nurturing Thursday post I had in mind to write when I sat down at the computer. After choosing a different topic, I couldn’t get the words to flow. So, instead, I left that post for another time and decided to give myself a reminder about patience for today.
Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to encourage self-nurturing and to “give the planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.”
After writing blog entries mentioning Anne of Green Gables last week and wondering why I felt more interested in reading novels than composing my own stories earlier this month, I began to see those two topics as related. A few years ago, I bought a Kindle collection of the Anne series, which included some later stories that the author wrote after World War I.
I had enough familiarity with the awful history of that time period to feel that maybe I should leave well enough alone and not even glance at the bonus books. Of course, leaving books unread is easier said than done—so I looked at them, only to find my first instinct was correct. Many people at that time still had notions of war as glorious and manly. Women often shamed young men into enlisting by giving them white feathers for cowardice, apparently without qualms about sending friends to die in a trench or on a foreign beach.
The 1920s began with a flu pandemic and got worse, with horrendous racism, lynching, eugenics, political corruption, organized crime, gang violence, and gross social inequality. It was far beyond anything happening today, and I don’t believe we are doomed to repeat that generation’s fate of a Great Depression followed by another world war.
Still, we are certainly not immune from the sort of cultural angst that seeped into most writing of the 1920s, and I wonder if that may have something to do with why I haven’t been as interested in creative writing this year. Better to leave stories unwritten, perhaps, than to let dark themes seep into them.
When I went out to get groceries this morning, I drove along a curving road beside the river, with trees arching overhead in a lovely green tunnel that reminded me of the description of trees along the country lane in Anne of Green Gables. Although I go that way all the time and usually don’t think much about it, today its natural beauty made an impression on me. I felt fortunate to have such a peaceful break from my workday, even if I was just doing the grocery shopping.
Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to encourage self-nurturing and to “give the planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.”
After hurrying down to the river to get in our rowing exercise during breaks in the rain all week, my husband and I were glad to have a bright and sunny afternoon today. Although it was hot and humid enough to make a race-pace workout very tiring, we didn’t complain. Better than being indoors!
Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to encourage self-nurturing and to “give the planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.”
I traveled to Tennessee with my husband over the weekend, when he was refereeing at the SEC women’s rowing championship. The weather was beautiful, and everything went perfectly. The SEC did a great job of branding the course, which they rented from the Oak Ridge Rowing Association. Their signs and team banners were all over the place; it was very nicely done.
After I took some photos in the morning, when the first race was about to get underway, it occurred to me that I could use one of them as a header for my blog. Although this theme makes changing the header image very easy, I realized that I hadn’t done it in many years. A photo of a championship race at the start seemed just right to give a fresh start to this website.
I’ve had the saying “Let go and let God” in my mind this week, probably because I’ve been reminding myself to let go of expectations for whatever I can’t control. After everything that has happened in the world in recent years, that category feels enormous. Still, I try to keep in mind that there is always space for improvement, and that the future holds many things we haven’t yet imagined.
Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to encourage self-nurturing and to “give the planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.”
I sometimes feel that my blog has been woefully neglected. That is an exaggeration, of course; I’ve posted several entries per month for the past 13 years, including weekly Nurturing Thursday entries. Also, I have three ongoing multi-part stories, with reasonably clear ideas of what comes next in each of them.
Instead of composing my own stories, though, I’ve spent much more time reading fiction by other writers lately. I crave the distraction from a “real world” that seems increasingly unreal with every passing day. Sometimes, I feel almost as if I’ve gone back to childhood, when I would literally shut myself in a cupboard with a storybook after coming home from the confusion of elementary school.
“And that is a problem how?” My imaginary future self, Kass, appeared in the comfy oversized chair where I’d been about to sit. She sprawled insolently with her head tipped back across one armrest and her feet dangling over the other.
“Well, it’s a blog, right?” I frowned at the question. “So, I’m supposed to feel motivated to fill it with stories, insightful essays on modern times, cheerful photos of stuff around my house, or something.”
Kass made a rude noise. “Yeah, whatever. When will you learn to quit overloading yourself with silly social expectations? There’s no need to do anything with the blog except have fun with it—and invite me for visits, natch. As for photos, here’s one of your pink turtle friend, exploring your desk.”
I had to smile at her choice of images. The little pink turtle, one of my daughter’s crochet projects, had been decorating my desk for months, giving me a cheerful start to my workdays.
“Thanks, Kass. I’m feeling better now.”
“Good deal.” She grinned widely. “I’ll vacate your chair now, so that you can relax with a good book, feeling productive for having a new blog post. Always happy to help.”
After many years of talking about it, my husband and I finally got around to ordering a standby generator for our house. We don’t lose power often, but now that we both work from home, it is quite disruptive when it happens. There are storms rolling through the area this evening, and we heard thunder not long ago. The generator probably won’t get installed for a few months, but we’ll be glad to not have to worry whether a thunderstorm will cause a power outage.
And there’s peace of mind to be gained, as well, just from checking off an entry on the “someday” list.
Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to encourage self-nurturing and to “give the planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.”
Right before I started writing this post, I was changing purses. I have two that I use regularly, depending on the season. In the winter, I carry a plain black purse. Sometime in April, I switch to my summer purse, which is exactly the same style and dimensions as the winter purse. The only difference is that it has a colorful floral pattern, which generally puts me in a good mood when I look at it.
Maybe some people would say that’s a bit strange, but it makes me happy, so I don’t care.
Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to encourage self-nurturing and to “give the planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.”
All parts of this story are consolidated on one page here.
Maybe she had misheard the shocking accusation of murder, Ina thought. Surely, the Wild Forest’s witches could not have killed Nellie’s sister. They lived so peacefully in their secluded compound, striving for harmony with nature, that Ina couldn’t imagine them doing violence to anyone.
“I wasn’t here six years ago,” Ina replied, choosing her words carefully, “and I know nothing about what happened to your sister. Nobody ever spoke of her to me.”
“They killed her, I said!” Nellie’s voice rose in agitation as she waved her hands wildly. The knuckles of her right hand bumped the vase, which skittered across the table and fell off the edge before Nellie could catch it. The pink rose flew out, landing among thin grass and weeds in the shadow of the porch.
“Oh!” Clenching her hands again, Nellie sounded far more upset than simply dropping a vase—which didn’t appear to have taken any damage—might ordinarily have warranted. She visibly took several deep calming breaths, and then a sip of tea, before saying more.
“Early in the morning, on that Midsummer’s Eve, the air hung hot and still, with clouds gathering on the horizon—much as it was last year, when you arrived. Hetty was not yet eighteen, and she had come to stay here with me while John went into the city. I welcomed her help, as Mabel was still very young and was recovering from a fever.
“A girl wandered into the yard while Hetty and I were washing the breakfast dishes. She couldn’t tell us her name or where she was from, so we knew the witches had summoned her. Trying to keep her safe, we pretended that we knew her people in a nearby village and promised we’d take her there bright and early tomorrow, after John returned with the ox cart. We hoped that if she stayed here all night, she’d be free of the spell by daybreak.”
Nellie blinked twice and then abruptly got up from the table, turning her face away and rubbing one hand across her eyes as she picked up the fallen vase with the other hand.
“But we couldn’t stop our visitor from leaving.” Nellie settled back into her chair, restoring the now-empty vase to the table. “Late in the afternoon, a strong thunderstorm blew in, and we thought she’d have no choice but to stay the night. Instead, she lifted her head suddenly, like a dog hearing a distant whistle. She was out the door and hurrying toward the forest through the pelting rain at dusk before we realized what was happening. Hetty followed at once, while I stayed here with Mabel. Soon afterward, the rain stopped, but they did not return. The next morning, I found Hetty’s body washed up on the riverbank.”
