colour: solemn, sombre
October in New Brunswick is an explosion of colour. However, as the red and orange leaves fall, browns and yellows begin to dominate the landscape.
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View of Nerepis marsh looking south. The ferry is crossing the river, barely visible in the mist.
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Colour variety in the marsh grasses.
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Hay-scented fern adds yellows and browns to the ditches.
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solemn, sombre
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walked out to see you
once again as you
lay dying, somber
the soft light, marsh grass
leaning in the rain
autumn colour fades
tones solemn, ochre
of poplar and birch,
straw-pale, hay-scented
fern, Solidago
and tansy, shadows
in the ditch, the heads
of Typha
burst to seed
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Copyright Jane Tims 2019
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Best wishes everyone!
Jane
wings of angels
As part of my at-home-writers-retreat, I had a ‘break’ day yesterday. I had my hair cut (always relaxing) and went with my husband for a drive to our cabin. We read our book aloud (a Philip R. Craig Martha’s Vineyard Mystery) and took lots of photos. This evening I wrote a poem, based on today’s photos. Most are blurry, because of the relentless wind.
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wings of angels
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I don’t believe in angels,
though I catch their whisper
between stems of Poa,
meadow grasses and blue.
Discover feather fall,
seed tufts of goldenrod,
Solidago. Wing tips
disguised as autumn leaves,
staghorn sumac or oak.
Glimpsed along low ditches,
silken hairs of rabbitsfoot
Trifolium arvense.
Find feathers aloft, on air,
cirrus or stratus clouds,
or wind-smoothed cotton-grass,
tassels of Eriophorum.
Catch scent—Dennstaedtia
hayscented fern, or cedar,
sets cones for another year.
I think of angel wings
and refuse to believe.
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Copyright Jane Tims 2019
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All my best,
Jane
red, red, red
Autumn, no doubt about it. When I go outside, I see red everywhere. The red of the leaves of red maple, many already on the ground. The red of the lily-of-the-valley berries. The red of the crab apples on our little tree at the end of the walkway. The red hips on the rose bush beside the driveway. Red, red, red.
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red, red, red
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each rose hip edge
an ellipse to complete
the curve of rambling canes
berries red, mellow to orange
the white shine, highlight, tipped
with the black remains of blossom,
once pink, now vermillion of vermis,
cinnabar, poisonous, mercuric, toxic
lily-of-the-valley, raceme of berries
dangle, vivid crimson blush, bright
spot on fevered cheeks, the child
thought the berries good to eat
scarlet sigillatus, decorated
small images, pixilations
of woman with camera
limps to reach third
red, ruby, purple
red crabapples
in bunches
hanging
in rain
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Copyright Jane Tims 2019
All my best,
Jane
Six requirements for an At-Home-Writing-Retreat
I planned to attend a writers’ retreat this week, in Saint Andrews, New Brunswick. In the end, it was cancelled – too few participants. My arthritis is having a flare-up, so perhaps it is just as well I am at home. But I refuse to miss my creative writing time. So, I will do what I have done before. I will have an at-home-writing-retreat.
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I have done this twice before, so I know what works for me.
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For this retreat I need:
1. A room in my house where I don’t usually work, with a desk and a place to relax. My guest room is clean and quiet, ready for a session each day. Actually, quiet is not necessary … years of working in a big office with lots of activity and other people have made me immune to ‘noise.’
2. Six days with no appointments or outside obligations. Since I had set aside six days for the Saint Andrews Retreat, my calendar is cooperating. I will also keep my emailing and social media time to a minimum.
3. Six days with few domestic obligations. I already have reduced expectations when it comes to domesticity! To help with the retreat I have planned easy meals and each day I will do one thing to help us keep ahead of the mess … for example, today I filled and ran the dishwasher.
4. A cooperative husband. No problem, he is always supportive!
5. Goals for the week. I am in the middle of revisions for my next book in the Kaye Eliot Mystery Series: ‘Something the Sundial Said.’ I also want to work on the map I include in all my mystery novels. By the end of the week, I want to be able to send for the Proof of the book, complete with map. I also want to create three blog posts, including two new poems.
6. Physical exercise. I do stretches and bike on my stationary cycle every day anyway. This week, I’ll spent some deliberate time walking outside, taking photos and feeding my need for nature, the basis of my creativity.
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Today is the first day of my retreat. I took a walk in the rain and some photos for Wednesday’s blog. I did 70 pages of revisions (17,000 words); this sounds like a lot but this is the final revision before the Proof (will get editing and a beta-read). This afternoon I wrote the draft of a poem and started the map for ‘Something the Sundial Said’ (I use GIMP to draw my maps). The retreat is underway!
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Here is the first draft of the map for my book. The book is set in a fictional community in Nova Scotia.
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All my best,
Jane
wild turkeys in New Brunswick
As we came back from our drive in Charlotte County last weekend, we were on the lookout for wild life. And we were not disappointed.
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Down an unused road we saw twelve wild turkeys. Most, perhaps all, were females. In recent years we have seen wild turkeys more often on our various drives.
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They are fun to watch. They are quite social. Some were foraging, probably eating seeds, berries or insects; others were resting among the pink rabbit-foot clover.
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The University of New Brunswick is asking people to report the wild turkeys they see. The study will help determine the status of populations in New Brunswick. Report sightings to the Facebook Page NB Wild Turkey Research
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All my best,
Jane
a gulp of swallows
The days are warm and humid. The nights offer compensating cool. The gardens are full of produce and, yesterday, we made our first stop at a roadside stand to get apples. People say “feels like fall.” On the weather channel they call this “hurricane season.” We turn the calendar on the kitchen wall to September.
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Fall is a month away, but the birds know the time of year. They flock with a sense of urgency, even desperation.
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A flock of swallows is called a ‘flight’ or a ‘gulp.’
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gulp
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barn swallow (Hirundo rustica)
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Flight of swallows
against blue sky
gapes, as thousands
thicken cables,
telephone lines,
weather reports,
gossip. Feels like
fall. Birds follow
clues of day length,
temperature,
scarcity of food.
Gulp of swallows
expands, contains
every straggler.
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Copyright Jane Tims 2019
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All my best,
Jane
Small, small garden
Arthritis means my days of the big garden are over. But I can still enjoy digging in the earth, planting seeds, pulling weeds and harvesting, just on a smaller scale.
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On our deck are two Veg Trugs (Lee Valley Tools used to sell them) and one bag of soil, slit open and supported on a metal frame. In the ‘gardens’ I have two snow pea plants, three yellow wax bean plants, three parsley plants and one cucumber plant.
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Each day for the last month, I sit on the deck and nibble on my ‘harvest for the day.’ Sometimes it’s one bean pod and a snow pea pod, sometimes two beans, sometimes a cucumber sandwich. Seems small, but I think I enjoy these little sessions more than the buckets of produce I once harvested from my garden.
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