I’m back from a retreat, of sorts. A short four-day camping/fishing trip to the high Uintahs. Autumn was but a whisper, as we entered the mountains. Minor splashes of pale tangerine and amber among the willows marking the creek, hints of straw yellow scattered through the aspens, wine red and crimson in the maples. When we were there in June, the snow still capped the high peaks, but it was long gone and vegetation looked dry, but wild asters bloomed pale lavender and the wild roses sported poppy-colored hips as big as my thumb.
It had been a particular tough month and I looked forward to a rest, but I wanted to do some writing work of some kind. My thought was to work on hunting for poems. The camping trips feed the poetry and I needed a break from editing. I didn’t spend much time with that, but I came home feeling a bit rested, with photos and ideas. I consider that a success, given how I work a nd how this last few years have gone.
I do a lot of what I call paper thinking. Writing down doodle words, hunting up words that relate to a poem idea, or even a scene, that I’m not getting crisp enough. The paper thinking helps me. Gets my mind loosened up, my mind wandering, or maybe, analyzing. I’ve done this from the beginning, as a eight-year-old. Yet, all these years later, I forget and start writing like a person walking up hill with all the determination of a angry bear.
I have to remember to stop pushing so hard. Hanna Nyala said it best in Leave No Trace: Keep your nose over your toes. Don’t get your head to far out in front. It puts you out of balance and wears you down. But when I’m focused on the finish I tend to do that, forgetting to enjoy the work (‘cause I do). I forget and get too hard on myself.
I did a little paper thinking while there, along with extra sleep, a break from caring for an elderly parent, photos of wonderful scenery. Although with all the photos I took, I got nothing of the autumn color. Instead, I ended up with a lot of pictures of sunsets. The skies were overwhelming and for some reason spoke to me this trip. It seems so cliche, but I'm trying to trust that I have a reason that I needed pictures of skies at sunset.
We spent several hours one evening on a knoll in the middle of the forest, listening for elk. We were a bit too early in the season, but the silent hours, wind in the aspen (we could hear it coming from three canyons over), the distant thunder, the short bursts of rain fed me just what I needed.
We travel a seventeen-mile dirt (washboard) road to get to the campground. This year we were surprised. The first half of the road had been blacktopped. It made for a smoother, faster drive in. The downside may be more people in the campgrounds, less wildlife. We have enjoyed solitary camping in previous years. We’re not unfriendly, but we do like getting away.
I'm glad to be back and back to writing. I think I needed the break. I think I need to get back to work.
It had been a particular tough month and I looked forward to a rest, but I wanted to do some writing work of some kind. My thought was to work on hunting for poems. The camping trips feed the poetry and I needed a break from editing. I didn’t spend much time with that, but I came home feeling a bit rested, with photos and ideas. I consider that a success, given how I work a nd how this last few years have gone.
I do a lot of what I call paper thinking. Writing down doodle words, hunting up words that relate to a poem idea, or even a scene, that I’m not getting crisp enough. The paper thinking helps me. Gets my mind loosened up, my mind wandering, or maybe, analyzing. I’ve done this from the beginning, as a eight-year-old. Yet, all these years later, I forget and start writing like a person walking up hill with all the determination of a angry bear.
I have to remember to stop pushing so hard. Hanna Nyala said it best in Leave No Trace: Keep your nose over your toes. Don’t get your head to far out in front. It puts you out of balance and wears you down. But when I’m focused on the finish I tend to do that, forgetting to enjoy the work (‘cause I do). I forget and get too hard on myself.
I did a little paper thinking while there, along with extra sleep, a break from caring for an elderly parent, photos of wonderful scenery. Although with all the photos I took, I got nothing of the autumn color. Instead, I ended up with a lot of pictures of sunsets. The skies were overwhelming and for some reason spoke to me this trip. It seems so cliche, but I'm trying to trust that I have a reason that I needed pictures of skies at sunset.
We spent several hours one evening on a knoll in the middle of the forest, listening for elk. We were a bit too early in the season, but the silent hours, wind in the aspen (we could hear it coming from three canyons over), the distant thunder, the short bursts of rain fed me just what I needed.
We travel a seventeen-mile dirt (washboard) road to get to the campground. This year we were surprised. The first half of the road had been blacktopped. It made for a smoother, faster drive in. The downside may be more people in the campgrounds, less wildlife. We have enjoyed solitary camping in previous years. We’re not unfriendly, but we do like getting away.
I'm glad to be back and back to writing. I think I needed the break. I think I need to get back to work.
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