October's Wheels Grind Slowly Through the Mud

We're dealing with the aftermath of our disastrous flooding here in Colorado, and are handling it as well as can be humanly managed. There are so many stories of what happened to people, places, animals, and things that even a story addict like myself has had to build up a shell just to survive all the heart-wrenching tales. I know the feeling when your reality suddenly changes. Disbelief as your heart skips a beat, then another, then stutters along as you try to come to terms with unreality. It can be caused by the death of a loved one, your cancer diagnosis, a car accident, or economic ruin. And now we can add one I hadn't thought too much about until now: Your home is there, filled with your life's possessions, representing safety. Your beloved refuge from the hard world. The next day, hour, minute, your home is gone.

I just heard the story of someone's house disappearing overnight in the flood. The people had no real worry about losing their lovely three-story dream home. It was above a dry wash on the only level ground on the property, but the heavy rains had filled the gully with water for the first time in over ten years. They went to spend the night at a neighbor's house simply because the unusual sound of the rushing water was keeping them awake. They returned in the morning, planning to get ready to go to work, and the house had vanished. The powerful water had undercut the flat land the house was built upon, taking away both the house and the ground it was built on.

Mushrooms and green grass in abundance now.

Fall is here and winter is breathing down our soggy necks.

Living the Good Life in Longmont

It's a Monday morning and all is well in the blue house. It's going to be a nice day with the exception of air quality from our first big fire that has been burning for several days. I always think I'm sick but it turns out the smokey air is the culprit.

Today will be a writing day, followed by some socializing over coffee, and maybe followed by a visit to the ranch. Cooper, my horse, is in need of some grooming, but it's a dirty, smelly experience for the person trying to clean him up, and is best done before socializing. I plan to visit some boarding stables closer to Longmont in April. It would be great to have him nearer to the house. I'm looking for a place that can provide a shelter with a paddock, evening hours, an indoor arena, tack room, bathroom, and a view would be nice. The ranch in Boulder is about as pretty as it can get in the foothills, but has none of the modern conveniences. The road is a horrible washboard and the bathroom at the trailhead, which used to be clean and decent, is now disgusting. As busy as the open space around the ranch is, I'm surprised Boulder County Open Space doesn't take better care of things.

We're gearing up to get our resident granddaughter into preschool for at least three mornings a week. I need and want to finish the rewrite on my book.

A couple of years ago, I sent a story to the literary magazine, Glimmer Train. I was a "finalist" but was disappointed I wasn't in the top 25 list. I just read this on the Glimmer Train website: "Stories that don't make the top-25 list, but are in the top 5% of entries, earn Honorable Mention and will be marked "finalist." You should mention that in cover letters as you send the piece back out into the world. (Either "finalist" or "Honorable mention" will be accurate.) Nice work!" It cheered me up to know my story was in the top 5%.

It's a good day to be a Corbie-Crow!

Spinning My Wheels, They Go 'Round and 'Round

But I'm not in the mood for snow today. It was supposed to snow this evening, but I'm looking out the windows next to my computer this morning, and it's snowing. Quite a lot, and on my nicely cleared driveway. Of course I need to go to my writing group tonight in Boulder, so I'll just have to see how the day shakes out.

My brain has been spinning its wheels for quite a few days now. Sometimes I know why I can't gain traction, but I haven't got a clue about this time. The only writing I've done lately is in some letters and a short story I'm rewriting. I've made good on my threat to send out more of my fiction this year. So far, that is. I have an idea for a new book but it's ambitious and audacious. Can I pull it off? Can't hurt to try. Have you read Swamplandia! by Karen Russell? It's ambitious and audacious. Now she has a book of short stories out. The reviewers are saying it's even better than her novel. She has the balls to push the reader's belief, and does a great job.

I'm trying to plan a couple of short family visits to take place in the near future. Should I drive or fly? Tough choice. My granddaughters in Seattle are growing and changing at the speed of light and I miss them and their parents. My mother in California is slowly becoming light as a feather. I fear she'll blow away into the mists above the delta if I don't get out there soon. Of course, my intentions to travel have caused an anomaly in the fabric of the universe. My calendar is filling up with obligations. Family members may move in with us while they sell their house. My husband has taken on more work. Our cabin is still mud-bound and the time to deal with it is fast approaching. I don't have the time to sit here and spin my wheels.

Corbie-Crow