Sharon Creech's Blog, page 34

Snow Terrain

 
I tried to get these two photos side by side in order to show the wide expanse of our frozen and snow-covered lake, but I was not able to merge them as I hoped.  That's my husband out there, testing the ice.  It felt as if we might be on the Alaskan tundra: snow as far as the eye could see and, except for the thin line of the opposite shore, a beautiful blue-white light enveloping all.
We followed many animal tracks. Deer tracks led in a straight line across the lake; rabbit tracks disappeared into bushes; and squirrel tracks (below) led from tree nests to holes dug in the snow and dirt to retrieve nuts, and back to tree and up to nest:

A World in an Eye

Is everything you see shaped from within or without?

This close-up of an eye startles me because it absorbs the light instead of reflecting it, and so it looks more like a planet, a world.  It reminds me that we shape our own world(s), and that my world, while similar to yours, is also different from yours. Sometimes I think that I write in order to imagine what you see and to clarify what I see.

Above, it is my eye you see.
With your eye.

Dizzy yet?

Snow at the Lake, again

We continue to have beautiful, gentle snowfalls of about three-to-six inches nearly every day. The snow changes everything, all is new, and you (I) want to take a thousand photos . . .

The lake is frozen. Snow covers that vast expanse (in the background here):


I had been out on cross-country skis; that's my husband in the photo, on snowshoes. Afterwards, he said, "I don't really get the point of snowshoes."

The vistas are surreal and the close-ups are magical. These are down at the lake's edge:

 
And me, I am twenty feet tall:


Night, all . . .

A Reader

It is a touching moment: discovering a child reading one of my books.  This photo captures something even more touching: discovering my granddaughter reading one of my books. It wasn't even a staged photo-op!

Christmas Past

Well, there we are, me and my siblings, minus my youngest brother, who was not yet born. I'm second from right and I think I'm 10 years old in this photo. I remember that brown, gold and cream flannel bathrobe; these are not colors I favor now.

When we were all grown, my mother papered the wall behind us in a beautiful grass-cloth fabric. Two weeks later, my toddler son scribbled all over it with a magic marker.

Mom didn't bat an eye.

Merry Merry

My friend Louise sent me this angel last Christmas, the year of The Unfinished Angel.  It's just under four inches high and sits on my windowsill year round now. She reminds me of the unfinished angel in my book, and her quirkiness reminds me of my friend and of a younger me. I like that the angel is always looking up and that her wings, though crackled, are still intact.

In thinking about what holiday images I wanted to post to wish you all a merry, merry, I first chose the angel.  Next, a wreath with snow on it:


A tree in the house, a wreath on the door, and snow on the wreath: that's all I need to slip into the season. That snowman by the door lights up and is my husband's addition to the front entrance. Ahem. The grandchildren LOVE it.

The final image I chose is not a conventional holiday one, but rather a reminder that our grandchildren left behind after a summer visit:


You've got to smell those roses, right?  Animals, children, flowers: bliss.

Happy holidays, everyone! May your 2011 be healthy and sweet.

Reflections

Winter's late afternoon light streams in all the windows and makes the rooms glow.  I'm always trying to capture that light.  After I'm long gone, someone will come across dozens of photos of light-on-walls and perhaps wonder why on earth I'd take all those 'empty' shots.  Empty? Maybe I'll be the shadow in the room.

Stopping in the Snow

It's a stop-and-gawk-at-the-snow kind of day.  Mm-mm.

Turning Points

Two weeks ago, on the day I finished the last draft (of this round) of the new book, a few dozen white birds landed on the lake. Swans? Snow geese? Perhaps one of you can tell us what they are.  Beautiful they were, but short stay visitors. Off they went to the south, and off my manuscript went to the east, to editor and agent.

Then it was limbo time: catching up on delayed obligations while awaiting word on the ms.

The snows came, gently at first and then blizzardy all around, and now there is a still, frozen, white beauty outside:


When the snows stopped, the agent and the editor weighed in: ta da! All is well. The book survives. There will be more to fix and polish, but these first viewings are key.

Outside, I look back in and see the inside and outside reflected back and forth:


And it somehow reflects the book: I am in it and out of it, in every word and every image.

Maybe you will see my tracks:


The next stage includes discussions with editor and further polishing and revision. That will take anywhere from weeks to months. But right now, I'm relieved and content.


'Night everyone; stay warm if you are in snow country.

Snow at the Lake

We left home a week ago at the start of a blizzard and we returned home last night to find several feet of fresh, white snow decorating the house, the trees, the newly-frozen lake. It's a pure, white vista from my office window.


We have been waiting for this first big snowfall of the season and are grateful we can stay put and enjoy it. By March, people will be cursing this snow that now seems miraculous.

My husband won't mind shoveling today, but it's the tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow that might wear him down. Yes, I will help. Probably.

Stay warm, all of you in snow country. . .