Vicki Lane's Blog, page 504

An Almost Sunset

I so rarely see the western sky -- the mountain behind our house blocks most of it-- but I caught this one when I was in Asheville on Wednesday to meet with my class. 
It was even pretty reflected in my car window. The golden light caressed a brick wall . . . As you can see, it's a ways from sunset. . . but it was time for my class.

Dreams Unfolding

Last night was the beginning of a new class -- folks ready to offer up their dreams for critique. It's not an easy thing to do -- especially the first time -- kind of like putting your child in a beauty/talent contest and having to hear everyone's honest opinion.
Fortunately, it's easier to improve your novel than it is to turn your homely, awkward, tone-deaf child into a singing, dancing beauty. 

And it sounds like we're going to have lots of interesting material to work with -- fantasy, mystery, historical -- and not a vampire or a zombie in the lot -- at least, from what was said. 
Several of these folks have complete novels and are just in the tweaking-before-sending-out stage -- others have characters and ideas in search of form.  

I'm excited -- I love watching dreams unfold! 

River Light

One Perfect Rose

A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet -
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;
'My fragile leaves,' it said, 'his heart enclose.'
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.


Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.
Dorothy Parker

No Mark Upon Her

Deborah Crombie's No Mark Upon Her kept me up way past my bedtime. The latest entry in the on-going saga of Gemma James and Duncan Kincaid is another winner from this talented author who writes what I think of as police procedurals with heart... and with intricate plots that keep me turning pages and guessing.
I've raved about Deb's books before (HERE.) They are set in the UK and move about a bit, giving an Anglophile like me a peek at different parts of the culture -- distilleries in Scotland, London's East End, Glastonbury , Cambridge, the Yorkshire moors . . . This one is set in Henley and there's quite a lot about the sport of rowing -- an Olympic hopeful for the single sculls is murdered . . .

I found myself Googling to find out more about rowing and its traditions. Crombie describes the allure and the mystique so compellingly that I found myself wishing I'd been introduced to this sport many years ago,
There's beautiful description, sharply drawn characters, psychological suspense, the pleasant details of Duncan and Gemma's family life, and a plot that twists and turn. But wait, there's more!

There are also dogs!  Some very nice SAR dogs  (Search and Rescue dogs) play an important part in the story (and sent me Googling again.)
This is a wonderful read -- if you're new to the series, don't worry; this book can stand alone. And I'll bet that after reading it, you'll want to go back and explore the others.
(Disclaimer: I bought this book myself. This recommendation was not solicited.)

Silent Snow

Politics Aside . . .

I try to keep most of my political opinions on Facebook and that's where I discovered a link to Margaret and Helen,  Best Friends for Sixty Years and Counting. 

This witty blog is too good to miss -- though I'll warn you that it is liberal, feminist, and not afraid of 'language.' (The F word and the N word are banned.)

Then I found out that there's some on line discussion as to whether this blog is really written by a pair of octogenarians.  Hmm. These ladies definitely don't fit most folks idea of eighty-somethings... these ladies rock! 
And while I can't vouch for the reality of this particular pair, I will say that I have no trouble believing that older women can be articulate, liberal, funny, and that they might use a bit of 'vulgar' language. It smacks of ageism to suggest otherwise.   
And speaking of ageism, I'm still fuming over something I heard on an NPR interview  with former poet laureate Donald Hall.
Hall, who is in his eighties and physically frail,  told Fresh Air's Terry Gross of being in Washington, D.C., to receive the National Medal of Arts. Hall and his companion, Linda, decided to visit the National Portrait Gallery and they stopped in front of a sculpture created by Henry Moore, the subject of a 1965 New Yorker profile written by Hall.

"I can't stand for long, so my friend Linda was pushing me in a wheelchair, and at one point the guard came over and told us that this sculpture was a Henry Moore," he recalls. "My friend Linda thought of mentioning to him that I knew Moore pretty well, but we didn't ... and we went onto other things."

After lunch, they ran into the same guard, who asked Linda if she had a nice lunch and then leaned in closer to Hall's wheelchair.

"And he had an idiot grin and pointed a finger at me and said, 'Did we have a nice din-din?' " recalls Hall. "It was amazing. ... He talked baby talk at me. ... I was taken aback, totally taken aback and amused that he should make such a mistake. I wouldn't talk baby talk like that to a baby. Here he was, talking baby talk to an 82-year-old."
Appalling. But probably all too common that age and/or disability are equated with a lack of intelligence. 
Next time, Mr. Hall, I'd suggest a quick upward thrust of the cane where it would do the most good. And then a quote from Monty Python.
"I'm not dead yet!"

Light and Time

"Light is Time, thinking about itself."                                   Octavio Paz
I saw this quote yesterday and it nagged at me till I decided to use it for a post.

 Light is Time. . .  And it thinks . . .  Long, beautiful thoughts . . .  Painting them across the face of our world.

Tweets

Snow Moon

Native Americans gave names to the various full moons. Last night's was the Snow Moon (we don't have any) or the Hunger Moon (none of that either, thank goodness) . . . for the other names, go