September Submissions with Stressful Intervals, Storms, and Late Summer Sights

Hot Air Balloon with trees

September Submissions with Stressful Intervals

Well, this week was exciting—and mostly not in a great way. My dad got sick with pneumonia and wound up in the ICU, we were so worried. He’s back home safe tonight, thank goodness. Then Friday, I meant to go to a Woodinville farm, cut some flowers, and go downtown to a poetry reading. Unfortunately, instead of any of that, Glenn and I got stuck in a bizarrely strong lightning and rainstorm and ended up having to go back home. (The one day the weather forecasters had said we wouldn’t have rain, we had the storm—the other days the weathermen swore would be wet were dry and sunny, so ?? Don’t trust Seattle weather!) Not as stressful as family being in the hospital, but still a bummer.

Orange rose

Late Summer Sights

The rest of the week was spent updating my resume (I’m tentatively looking for work again), writing poems, submitting poems (although not to Cincinnati Review or Prairie Schooner, which both closed in under a day, before I got in a submission, whew! Crazy! Submitting is an adventure sport these days.) Also, re-reading Tracy K. Smith’s Life on Mars for book club.

On the days without thunderstorms, Glenn and I spend time at the Chateau Ste Michelle rose garden, getting corn and apples at Bob’s Corn and Pumpkin Farm, and cutting flowers and cuddling farm kittens at McMurtrey Farm. Late summer all around—hot air balloons going up and down, hummingbirds at the final blooms of summer flowers, and earlier sunsets.

Tomorrow we’ll have my little brother and my nephew over for a barbeque, rain or shine (as long as there’s no lightning), and we’ll grill some of that new farm corn from Bob’s. The last days of sunshine and temperatures in the seventies may be nigh. I do love the fall here, however brief and unpredictable—when the sky is blue and the air is a little bit chilly. Wishing you all a happy and safe holiday weekend.

Lunar Eclipses, Losing Dolly, and Welcoming September

Cell phone photo of this week’s lunar eclipse

Lunar Eclipses and Energy Shifts

So this week was a lunar eclipse, which can always bring about weird shifts in energy—and this one was about letting things go. We went to the lavender garden and waited ’til sundown, then went around town trying to get a view that wasn’t blocked by clouds (space weather and Pacific Northwest weather are often at offs.) But we finally got about 45-minutes of visible eclipsing. It was a lovely night. I tried to spend time outdoors in fresh air this week, to keep the stress from lack of sleep and everything else in the world from rocking me too much.

I’m trying to take care of my health this week, have several appointments that I’ve been putting off, and I hope that this persistent insomnia is something that hopefully will be over soon. Yesterday, I woke up to the sound of rain, and it was cool enough to wear pants and a sweater last night! The change in weather definitely has a positive effect on my mood.

Sunflowers and Barn

Losing Dolly

This week was hard, too, because of the loss of Dolly Parton, Tim Curry, and artist Yayoi Kusama. Dolly, in particular, who was such a role model for me as a young girl growing up in Tennessee—the way she dealt with snobbery about her accent and upbringing (I had a pretty severe Southern accent that brought on some merciless teasing when we moved to Ohio)—the way she gave so much to charities, from literacy to vaccines, and the way she supported things she loved, like being an invisible producer on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. How generous and gracious she was to others but also didn’t allow herself to be pushed around. Even gone, she will continue to be an inspiration.

Lunar eclipse, fancy camera

Welcoming September

September is almost here, and with it, submission season! (…and sweater weather, and pumpkin farms, and corn mazes, and earlier sunsets…) I’m trying to increase my time reading, writing, and yes, setting up my Excel spreadsheet for submissions. I’m trying to set realistic goals but also increase my focus. Things can be hazy in summer, but fall brings things into focus, I find. Just like that eclipse—clearing the air, losing the things that hold us back.

I was talking to a friend about thinking positively about his future—thinking not about your worries and anxieties, but about the good things you can envision, the hopes and dreams you maybe have been afraid to express. At this stage of life—it is hard sometimes to not worry about aging relatives, our own fragile bodies, paying bills, winding through terrible traffic—but it’s absolutely essential to keep the long view in mind—that we can’t control everything, we can’t dodge loss—but that maybe better days are ahead. That certain parts of our life WILL get easier. I am by nature an anxious person, so making myself believe this as I’m writing it is hard. Julia Roberts told a great story about Dolly, about their days filming Steel Magnolias, that Julia as a young actress was asking for water, complaining about the heat, about the length of the hours, and she asked Dolly, with your wig and your makeup, you must be uncomfortable—why aren’t you saying anything? And she said something to the effect of, when I was young, I asked to be rich and famous, so I am not going to complain about it now that I’m here.

A Practically Perfect Summer Day with Goldfinches and Dahlias, Sleepwrecked, and Writing as a Waiting Game

McMurtrey’s barn and orange dahlias

A Practically Perfect Summer Day with Goldfinches and Dahlias

Yesterday was the kind of Pacific Northwest Day people dream about—no smoke, 75°F, a light breeze. I decided to push my MS-tired self to go visit a couple of places so I could soak up the outdoors—the first was McMurtrey Farm, to gather a bouquet of dahlias and zinnias, cuddle farm kittens, get gardening inspiration, and listen to the finches singing in the sunflowers. Then our Lavender Farm (next weekend is the last of this season) and spent some time watching the sunset from the lavender field. Sunset now is earlier—closer to eight than nine—than it was just a couple of weeks ago. Anyway, a dreamy day to get some Vitamin D without wildfire smoke or too-high temperatures driving us indoors. Sunday was a little cooler and cloudier, but we still made an outing to another farm (this time, Bob’s Corn and Pumpkin Farm) to pick up some necessities and check out how the pumpkin and sunflowers were doing.

Glenn and I at JB’s Lavender Farm

Sleepwrecked!

Ironically for someone who has been walking in lavender fields, I have had terrible times recently trying to sleep. And when I mentioned this to a couple of friends, they also talked about having terrible sleep. Every health article in the world tells people with health issues like MS (and women over a certain age) to get enough sleep, but if you are already following the rules and sleep is just not happening, what do you do? I should say I follow all the sleep hygiene rules already, and have tried melatonin and Benadryl, and even prescriptions like Ambien and Gabapentin and nothing has helped. (And I was fired by the UW sleep study director because I tear off everything that traces sleep, multiple tests in a row.) So, if any of you have any advice, drop it in the comments! I’m hoping as the weather gets cooler and the sun sets earlier (two days in a row in the seventies, yay!), maybe it will just happen naturally? I’ve added the Calm app and the Finch app (which was supposed to be for the husband’s ADHD, but I ended up using it more than he did) and all the sleep stories and breathing exercises…again, did nothing. So, if you meet me and I’m less than coherent and have bags under my eyes, now you know.

Glenn and I at Bob’s with red tractor

The Waiting Game and Gearing Up for Fall

How much of writing and submitting are just…waiting? Far too much. I write a lot, way more than I publish, and I submit I would say a fair amount (like between a couple and a dozen submissions per month, I’d say). I’m right now trying to find a place that will publish my next book as well as individual poems. But how powerless are writers like me? Unless you’re one of the chosen (ie, you’re friends with the editor of Paris Review, or got an NEA grant when they still existed, or a supergenius grant, etc,) you’re playing a waiting game. Sending out your work, then waiting sometimes over a year for a rejection.

Female goldfinch and sunflower

Sometimes the name of the game is empowering yourself by staying proactive in sending out your work or distracting yourself with other hobbies or work. Distraction isn’t a bad idea if you’re worrying about your work and writing something else—an essay or short fiction if you’re a poet or sketching a local scene or taking photos—something else creative—is a good way to help. And sometimes talking to other writers and encouraging them (or listening to their worries) is helpful too.

A Zoo Visit, Flower Farms, and How to Have Optimism in Hard Times (for Us, and for the Arts)

McMurtrey’s Flowers with late sun

Flower Farms and August Slips Away

It’s the time when every day that’s not too hot and too smoke-filled has to be celebrated before, in Taylor Swift’s immortal words, it “slips away like a bottle of wine.” So we took a trip to our local u-pic flower farm, McMurtrey’s, and gathered a big bouquet of sunflower, dahlias, and zinnias, and a trip to the zoo, among other things. Tonight we’re going back to Bob’s Corn and Pumpkin Farm. I’ve gotten overheated and probably breathed too much smoke in the process for an asthmatic, but it just feels like we need to get out while we can.

Lion cub and dozing mother at Woodland Park Zoo

Zoo Visit to Woodland Park Zoo

Our first visit to the Woodland Park Zoo in some time, and there were a lot of changes! There is now a raised walkway through a forest-dwelling center, with bigger enclosures for the red panda and a new red tree kangaroo. There’s a new Pallas Cat, which did not appear, two new lion cubs, a baby giraffe, and not new but seasonal, the butterfly house. So, we spent more time than usual and really had a good time. I’m a little jealous of the Cincinnati Zoo, which just got a new fennec fox baby.

Glenn and I in the Zoo’s rose garden, pink roses

How to Have Optimism in Hard Times (for Ourselves and the Arts)

I had the privilege of spending time this week with a couple of younger poets, and one of the subjects was the feelings of despair and anxiety these times have brought on, for ourselves as women and individuals, for America, specifically for the arts in America and the environment. I was born in a pessimistic decade, when the economy, the music, the fashion, the President—basically everything sucked. (The brown and orange polyester alone gives me PSTD.) When I was born, people were standing in line at gas stations. Stagflation had arrived, with its high unemployment. We were just getting out of an unpopular war. The year I was born, Roe v. Wade was decided, and with it, a sigh of relief for women’s rights. Flash forward to now—gas is crazy expensive, interest rates are up, Roe v. Wade was repealed leaving women having miscarriages to be imprisoned (depending on your state’s level of crazy), jobs are getting harder to find (especially ones NOT training AI to replace humans), our President sucks, and the music and fashion are okay but remind me vaguely of the more optimistic decade, the nineties. As someone who has experienced more than five decades, I will say that this will not last forever, and though it feels like the end times now, things can get better.

Not without everyone’s help, of course. People need to take the lead in voicing courage, support of women, the arts, and the environment, creating new jobs and demanding better support for science and medicine. We can vote and use our dollars not to support billionaires (ahem, Bezos and Musk) or corrupt politicians. We can also use hope as a weapon—to envision a better future is an act of rebellion against what currently is. It’s what science fiction writers like Octavia Butler dared to do decades ago—the Parable of the Sower, for instance, imagined a world that empowered empathy, love of nature, and cooperation. We can memorize poems, buy books and art, patronize museums and libraries, refuse to give in to the people that say National Parks, Poetry, and Art are worthless (the current administration, for instance). Did you know America spends the least on the arts per capita compared to the rest of the world? Here’s the breakdown:

Federal, state, and local governments in the U.S. combine to spend roughly $7 per capita annually on the arts, compared to $47 in Japan, over $50 in China and Australia, and upwards of $218 to $246+ per person across the United Kingdom and Western/Northern Europe.” (latentviews.substack.com)

When governments spend more on the arts, not only do artists benefit, but the community, and it actually creates jobs! (Check out Ireland’s experiment giving money to artists in the last few years.) We need to not just ask for, but demand better of our local, state and federal governments on protecting air and water, the rights of women and children and immigrants, the support for scientific study and the arts. We need to get louder about this, not give up. Because things can change rapidly. Hope can start out of small local attention and grow. I’m not giving up, and I’m still working in perhaps the most American-despised art form, the poem. I still plant flowers and trees, and donate to causes that protect animals, trees, women, and yes, poetry. I’m not making much money but even a small amount counts. Not becoming paralyzed by fear and anxiety—which is what oppressive governments and billionaires would like for us, in order to continue doing evil on the planet—is imperative. 

Anyway, September, a month of new beginnings, is almost here. I have felt an almost unreasonable optimism ever since the day of the solar eclipse (solar weather absolutely has an impact on my mental health, what about yours?) What can you hope for that feels almost unreasonable—a better relationship, a better job, better health, more safety and joy for you and your loved ones? Maybe there are small steps right in front of you that will lead to a better future. I’m just one woman (an over-fifty, disabled one at that) but I do feel like better times are ahead, as long as we take action and don’t give up. There’s a Buffy quote I love: Anya (as the vengeance demon Anyanka) says, “You trusting fool! How do you know the other world is any better than this?” Rupert Giles replies, “Because it has to be.” My other favorite quote is, in the time of pagers, “If the apocalypse comes, beep me!”

Anyway, envisioning the world you want isn’t just the mantra of phonies trying to sell you phony manifestations—it is really a first step in making the world into what you want. Hope is powerful, even more powerful than hate.

Escaping Heat Waves and Wildfire Smoke, Local Farms in Bloom, And Backyard Wildlife: deer, butterflies, birds

Me with farm kitten and dahlias @ McMurtrey’s

Escaping Heat Waves and Wildfire Smoke with Local Farms in Bloom

Well, I nearly went nuts trapped inside all week, with ninety degree temperatures and AQIs above 150. (Meanwhile, so many news updates from friends over the mountains who were having to evacuate, how hard the fires have been to contain, discussions of how this is our new normal, etc.)

But finally the smoke started to blow out on Saturday evening, and I just couldn’t wait to get out and explore! Our first stop was the newly opened McMurtrey Farm, where I got to cuddle a new farm kitten, cut some dahlias and sunflowers, and visit with the owner’s lovely family. There was still some haze even Saturday late afternoon, but it was so good to be outside again. We also went up to Bob’s Corn and Pumpkin Farm, which just re-opened to get fresh corn and pickles and kettle corn (a must for the season!)

Hot Air Balloon

Backyard Wildlife: Deer, Butterflies, Birds and Web Site Woes

Some things that we get used to in summer have returned with the good air, too: hot air balloons, local deer, and more birds. I did have some downtime during the heat and smoke to write, send out some work, and catch up on movies I hadn’t seen yet, like Supergirl and the Mandalorian movies. (For the record, I enjoyed both, but can’t say I thought they were…good? Maybe it was me being in a bad and MS-aggravated mood, but The Mandalorian and Grogu would have been better has a new season of the show, and Supergirl seemed bogged down and less fun that it should have been.) I got good news from some acceptances and bad news from some particularly disappointing rejections. But I always feel very lucky to have my garden and birds and deer—the Black-Headed Grosbeaks are going to be leaving soon and the goldfinches will be losing their color.

Is late summer a very productive time for you? For me it is a time to finish all the things I meant to do during the summer while the weather allows—like walking along Lake Washington, or going to the zoo or one of the gardens and farms I love. My intellect doesn’t work as well in the summer.I wrote a little bit while trapped in the house, but not as much as I feel I should have? There’s always this feeling of missed opportunities towards August, and also anticipating the increased work load of September.

I did also have to change web hosts this week after multiple expensive and frustrating years with HostGator, and a complete failure of this site, we switched to SiteGround, which so far has been pretty good. If there are glitches in the web site, forgive us, it’s just me and Glenn trying to fix things that have been wrong with the site for years—broken links and web mechanisms like plugins that were clunky. If you note anything, please leave a comment.

Can you believe it’s already the middle of August? I mentioned this in my last post, that though a lot of Seattle-ites lament the end of summer, I am always ready for the fall to begin. Are you ready?