Sunday, September 5, 2010



I picked a colander full of chokecherries yesterday, and my abundant raspberry crop is resting in the freezer for me to make into jam this week. Not sure yet what I'll do with the chokecherries (and yes, I left plenty on the bush for the birds): jam, syrup, liquor? I'm visualizing containers for them for holiday gifts. I also finished my novel this week. Strange that I don't think at all about when the raspberries or chokecherries will be ripe. Nature has its own timing, which I trust.
The novel, I worried about a lot. Would I finish it? How long would it take? Am I taking too long? I don't have answers. Now that it's done, and I look back, this novel had to take this long ~ nearly 20 years. It's the one I was learning with while I finished raising my children and while I gained skills and confidence in writing, not to mention research and research trips. I'm thinking now that each novel, each creative piece, has its own pace. Isn't nature a wonderful analogy for our own growth and progress as creatives?

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