The little summer book is my great delight lately.

It is, among other things, teaching me not to fuss too much about things being “finished.” Let alone perfect.
These are not zero-draft pieces, but neither are they receiving the multiple-reviews and lots-of-elapsed-time level of editing that’s going into, say, Serpentine.
I am illustrating each piece, and goodness knows I lack the ability to draw realistically, confidently, or even particularly interestingly. That doesn’t seem to matter to my little book. Its homeliness is a lovable thing about it.
Its slowness, too. I can only make so much work by hand in a given hour, or week, or season. There’s a natural slowness to working this way.
Part of the inspiration for this project comes from a course I’m taking with the poet Holly Wren Spaulding through her Poetry Forge school. I have a strong contemplative writing practice, and I find that Holly’s generous, mindful guidance is reminding me how to give that practice the time and the emotional space I always want to give it, but sometimes forget.
It’s reminding me also to savor the summer, which is a tough season for me. And truly, there is so much about summer (especially this midsummer season) I do love. Irises. Berries. Bare feet. Light and lovely rain.
So much to delight in. Slowly.

So lovely. The words and drawings. There’s so much character in our lines when we just let ourselves draw. Learned that from Lynda Barry’s books.
Congrats on Serpentine! I look forward to following your progress with your new book.
My oldest has graduated high school and perhaps, perhaps I can begin reengaging with slowness, solitude and silence. And maybe even letterwriting!
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I am sending you a postcard! <3
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A fitting poem considering three bears have been seen roaming our neighborhood. One of them pushed over one of our bee hives! Fortunately, couldnāt get it open so the ladies survived the trauma. I especially love the last line of the poem. Be careful out thereš. H.
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Bears on your street! In your garden! I guess that makes perfect sense, but somehow I never imagined it. How awesome, in the old sense. <3
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Tara, Summer is hard for me too! I’m a late summer baby and always long for autumn. I wrote something this morning in an attempt to change my relationship with oppressive southern heat and then see this in my email. Love feeling a little in sync with fellow writers. ??
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