Peaches (and peach-colored things)

from the Pickens flea market:
 

peaches,

string,

sedum (blue spruce),

and a teapot.

—Anna Lena Phillips

todointhenewyear.net

To the Waterfall

I took the trail to the waterfall today in the early morning to avoid the heat. The wooden archway that marked the trail-head hid mysteriously in the dense forest. As I crept along deeper into the dark opening of overhanging limbs, breaking intricate cobwebs in my path, I felt like I was in a fairy tale – Gretel, Snow White or Little Red Riding Hood. A crow squawked up above. My feet sunk softly into the mud. I soon heard the sound of the creek running beside me. Small white markers named the plants – witch hazel, sassafras, winter-berry - a feast for a witch’s brew. Before long, I reached the falls rushing down boulders, a small roar, the scent of moss and wet soil. Just beyond, a sweet little deck invited me to sit for a spell. Perhaps there was a fairy tale in this after all. I pulled out my notebook and began to write: Once upon a time…

-Johanna DeBiase

www.johannadebiase.com

Writing at Downton Abbey

For the two days I spent packing for this six-week residency, snow fell across North Carolina where I live and South Carolina where the Rensing Center is located. My partner and my parents were very concerned about the safety of the roads. Not only was the snow much deeper than usually seen in these areas, Southern states generally aren't as prepared to deal with heavy accumulations. They don't have enough plows to keep up with the weather, and main roads can  remain covered in slush that freezes overnight for days.
I of course assured my parents that I would be very cautious about when I left. Ellen, the center's administrator, kept me updated on local conditions by email. Weather apps, weather websites and national newspapers kept me in the loop about the storm's effects. My plan was to leave the moment things seemed clear....and if possible, to arrive on the date and at the time I had sent Ellen.
My partner was worried that I was too focused on the commitment I had made with the date. He urged me several times to put off my arrival by a day or even two just to be sure that the rural roads in South Carolina would be safe.
We had just finished binge watching the first three seasons of Downton Abbey on Netflix. The third time he asked if I would delay my arrival, I asked, "Do you remember that, every time a visitor is due to arrive at Downton Abbey, the entire staff goes into a frenzy getting things ready?"
He thought about that then nodded, unsure where I was going.
The house staff, I reminded him, freshen the bed linens and scour the fireplaces and clean the room. The butler polishes the silver, the cook orders special food and creates a special menu, a valet and maid must be assigned to each visitor. And then when the carriage or car pulls into the grand round driveway, the entire staff turns out to greet the visitors.
That, I told him, was happening at the Rensing Center. Ellen, her volunteer staff, the artists who came on the work program, and Friends of the Rensing Center were all making preparations for the next round of artists. By doing the best I could to arrive when I was expected, I honored the hard work and extra effort those preparations required.
The accommodations here are part of the draw. The artists were even encouraged to cut some of the lovely camellias on the property to liven up their studios and living spaces. (Camellia flowers, by the way, stand for perfection and excellence.) In the end, an important part of the Rensing Center's appeal is that it is accommodating.

Thoughts on the Creative Flow

Yesterday I arose at the unholy hour of 4 a.m. (Yes, I know, every hour and thing in this world is sacred but some are unholy, at least as far as getting out of bed is involved.)
Now, the only time I normally get up that early is for one of four very important reasons:
1. Hunt
2. Fish
3. Dance at a Native American powwow
4. Travel somewhere fun
Not that the numbering indicates the order of priority or frequency; it's just how it came to mind.
At any rate...that unholy hour.
I got up then in part because I went to sleep at 9:30 the night before. Why did I sleep then? Because I was tired.
Why did I arise at 4? Because I was awake.
I was ready to write.
I worked until 8 then ate breakfast. And because eating makes me tired (as well as the 4 a.m. waking time), I took a nap. By 9 I was writing again.
After lunch I went for a walk and did some food shopping in town.
Then I wrote again.
I created 12 pages yesterday, about 3,600 words.
That's one of the best parts about residency programs. You're able to do what moves you in the exact moment you are moved.
There's a power to setting aside purposeful time dedicated to a creative project.
There's even more power in the ability to write whenever you are moved to write. No worrying about whether you're disturbing a partner; no concerns over when the phone might start to ring and pull you away. No activities going on except those that nurture and support the work.
And, of course, I have the loving and patient support of my other partner, Hari. Here's a snapshot of him lounging on the porch of my residency home while I write in the morning sun.