"What do you plan to do with your one, wild, precious life?" -Mary Oliver

Sunday, June 16, 2013

The Cocoon

I've been gone so long I can scarce find my way back. I've missed coming around and reading your blogs and participating in Friday Flash Fiction and Magpie Sunday Tales. In case my blog should disappear from lack of interest, I click on it ocassionally to look at the water. But all too quickly, I'm called away to my lettuces and radishes, radicchio and kale, picking asparagus and tending finicky peppers that need this and that and tomatoes that must soon be staked. And then there are the weeds.

I fall into bed at night, earlier and earlier, like the most boring person on earth. In the wee hours of morning I look at my manuscript, portions stacked here and there (cause I'm a hands-on-paper kind of writer), and wonder how long I can persevere in my search for the perfect agent who will love its strengths more than they dislike its problems.

Spring and summer are always like this, no time to write, guilt-ridden at nightfall, but too tired to do anything about it. Achy legs find surcease between the sheets and achy heart burrows into the soft cocoon of blankets and dreams of water, an orderly garden, and a writing life.

But wait....have you ever had Canada geese fly overhead so low you could hear the whoosh whoosh of their wings? I was standing on my front porch admiring the idyllic scene of cattle on grass, when I heard the familiar honking of a resident pair. They flew in just over the power lines with their necks outstretched. I was surprised at the intensity of sound, much like the flapping of a dozen sheets on a clothesline. Geese fly slow and methodical, and the air displaced by their wing span left a tremor in the air. I watched as they disappeared over the tree line, wondering at their destination, wondering what they see from up there.


12 comments:

Frances Garrood said...

Welcome back, Yvonee! At least you can get out to your garden. Over here, it seems to be raining ALL the time.

Steven J. Wangsness said...

Once a year, maybe, geese overly my house, on their way somewhere or other. Never that low, though. Cooler are the occasional slow, lazy, magisterial overflights of bald eagles.

Yvonne Osborne said...

Frances,
Thank you!! I hope summer improves soon for both of us.

Steven,
Bald eagles? Well, you one-upped me there for sure! By the way, I've been reading your novel on my kindle and I'm getting into it. Slightly complicated (which never stops me) but quite well written.

Anthony Duce said...

I love the title, and enjoy so much the read of recent day to day of your world. Such a busy time in your world, keeping you from your writing.

Jemi Fraser said...

Enjoy your garden - even those weeds! We have geese all over the place around here. Had to stop for a troop of goslings crossing the road the other day :)

Liza said...

It is such a hard time of year to get it all done, and yet so filled with endless beauty. Love your description of the geese.

Yvonne Osborne said...

Tony,
Thanks so much. Yeah, it's crazy busy but the writing is always in the back of my mind and this crazy thing called blogging.

Jemi,
Hi! Most of the geese keep flying north in your direction, but some choose to hang out in Michigan. Thanks for commenting.

Liza,
Thanks so much. I like the way you've put it. I need to relish
the moments of endless beauty. Thank you.

Al said...

No shame in getting to busy in the day job...
No Canada Geese down this way :-)

But we are surrounded by other birds.
The loudest thing here is the continual tink, tink, of the Bellbirds up at the edge of the forest.

Yvonne Osborne said...

Al,
Thanks! I'd love to see a bell bird.

Anne Gallagher said...

I took time off the blogs because I was exhausted. I wanted to do all the stuff I've been putting off for the last year. So I did. And then I got itchy to write again. And on Thursday night we got hit with a microburst, 70 mph winds, and 7 trees down in my mother's yard. I've been chopping, raking, cutting, dragging, sawing, for the last 4 days. I know how you feel about bed.

Funny thing is, now that I WANT to write, I can't. Until all the mess is cleaned up. You know that no one's happy unless Momma's happy. lol

It's good to see you again, Yvonne.

Anne Gallagher said...

Oh, and we used to have swans that flew overhead when I lived at the beach. Their wing beat is so loud, it almost sounds like a helicopter. Well, not, but it is loud.

Yvonne Osborne said...

Hi Anne,
How good to hear from you again. That sounds like a mini tornado! Hopefully we both soon have time again for some of that writing.