Valentines in the Snow, Beautiful Ghosts at Roq La Rue Gallery, and Writing into the Winter Quiet

Valetine’s Day Flowers

Valentines in the Snow

Our plans for Valentine’s Day on Thursday were somewhat squelched by the snow and downed trees still around our neighborhood – the National Guard was called in to help people on the East side of Seattle dig out of their streets, people stranded by snow that refused to melt and unable to leave their neighborhoods on icy hills. Still, we drove out to a movie in the cold slush, which was fun after our weeks of being snowed in.

We decided to reschedule our Valentine’s Day plans, which included going to the opening of Roq La Rue’s group show, “Beautiful Ghost.” But it turned out the part of the art the gallery had planned to show was delayed because of the snow.

We finally tried to dig our garden out of the snow. We lost a little weeping birch that fell over under the weight of a foot and a half of wet snow and ice. Many cherry and apple trees on our street were knocked down, which was heartbreaking, and our neighborhood roads were actually blocked in both directions by huge downed evergreen trees – thank goodness for a neighbor who owned a chainsaw who cleared an area for cars to get in and out. My next door neighbor’s fifteen-year -old lilacs were split at the base. Nasty snow. Also, we had a nine hour power outage – but one of my friends nearby had a 24-hour outage – not much fun in the cold.

Glenn and I dressed for post-Valentine’s Day

Beautiful Ghosts at Roq La Rue

On Saturday, there was still snow on the ground, and a chill cold grey cloud dousing us with rain, but we were determined to do a little celebrating. We dressed up and went downtown to Roq La Rue, got to see the “Beautiful Ghost” show, and I spent time floating around the ghostly art. I have said before that I think being around art is important for writers, and even though I’m not a gifted visual artist myself, something about being around art and artists makes me feel happier and more inspired.

Me posing with “Bonny Swan” by Kai Carpenter

Here are a few shots of the pieces at the show, and me next to one of my favorites, “The Bonny Swan,” which reflects the narrative of an old English/Scottish broadside and folk song about a younger daughter pushed into the river by her older sister so that she could marry her younger sister’s fiancee. A harp is made from the drowned girls hair and bones that sings of her murderer. Yeah, I can see why I’d be attracted to it. Dead girl transformations, Scottish murder ballads, crimes being told by ghosts, instruments made out of bones?

Other pieces I was captivated by were this ghostly cardinal and “The Ghost of Miss Darcy Three Fish”

Afterwards we ambled through Elliot Bay Books, where Glenn got coffee and I picked up a copy of The Penguin Book of Japanese Stories, edited by Jay Rubin (a terrific translator whom I got to meet and think the world of) and introduced by Haruki Murakami, but I would have bought it just to see the stories by Yoko Ogawa and Banana Yoshimoto.

A Feature on Women Horror Writers and Writing into the Quiet

Anyway, we finally started getting mail and packages again, but there is snow again in the weather forecast next week. Feeling very ready for some sunshine and warmer weather. I want to see daffodils and cherry blossoms, not murdered cherry trees and bulbs buried under snow. The political climate and the weather have together been so depressing, maybe I’ll go sing drowned swan ballads to cheer myself up!

Speaking of horror and wintertime, a big thank you to Gallows Hill for including Field Guide to the End of the World in this feature on women horror writers! Click here to pick up a copy!

End of February can be a tough time for writers, because it tends to be a season on waiting on submissions, of still-too-long nights and dreary short days, of sad music (Ahem, acoustic version of “Northern Lights” by Death Cab and hey, for the heck of it, a version of “Bonny Swan”) So be kind to yourself, watch something that makes you laugh, read a novel or bring in some tulips. Spring awaits. Write into the cold wind.