Wednesday, May 5th, 2009

(Here's a photo of me riding in Alaska last June! I'll try to get a good shot of Katy-Morgan some time. I can't remember this horse's name but he was a nice character. The ground we rode over was very spongey, but he handled it just fine.)

This time of year just blows me away. Yesterday morning, walking back from digging leeks with my husband to send to his parents in Florida, I saw my first Nashville warbler! I missed the roufous crown spot, so will have to try for another look. It was up by the Lyons Road, a wonderful, steep little seasonal connector between Irish Hill and Shamrock Roads. The girls used to call it the Lions and Tigers Road, and loved to run screaming down the hill after walking up to it. I also saw a Blackburnian in the treetops out behind the old chicken house. I was grateful to find our hunter neighbors had taken down their deerstand that was over the border on one of our trees and from which one could see our house and conceivably fire into our back yard. This morning I scouted down an elusive woodthrush to add to my 2009 list. It was impossible to mimic the ethereal, twining double notes.

The Junior Girl Scouts came up to ride Star and Shady yesterday afternoon. It's pretty hard to talk seven fourth grade girls into surpressing their urge to shriek and leap about wildly! "Horses are prey animals, they spook easily . . ." Ah well. They weren't too bad and I think they all had fun. Star was a good old girl and Shady was great considering she hasn't been ridden in over a year. We didn't take Katy out as she's a bit of a fireball. Here's her rhyme:

Katy’s Made for Galloping

Katy’s made for galloping and Katy loves to run
Katy thinks that walking really isn’t very fun

Her walk is locomotive and her trot’s a little bumpy
She’s got not use for cantering, it only makes her jumpy

Oh, she’ll slow down if you sit right back and really tell her whoa
But Katy’s got two settings; one is stop, and one is go

Katy’s built for bushwhacking, as broad as she is tall
You wouldn’t think that Morgan mare had any speed at all

But out across the meadow track, underneath the sky
I gather up the reins and then I let my Katy fly

You may call my horse a fireball, even call her crazy
But one thing that you couldn’t call my little mare is lazy

May Day Evening

The sixteen or so hours that I am awake each day seem so short.

Yesterday was: write (reviewing early chapts. of WIP), go to dump and Dr.'s checkup (while listening to Twilight Book Two on tape--very funny, imagine going to a birthday party at a vampire's house getting a paper cut, then slashing your arm open on broken glass, I mean what a situation!) yoga class, Colbert Report, bed.

Today: write (adding patches to early parts of WIP--it's like piecing a crazy quilt), prep for presentation to eleven 1st graders at ICS School, do presentation (fun group-a set of triplets in the class!), sit in on author Joanne Hurwitz's presentation to 4th and 5th graders at Wellsville middle school (boy soes she know how to manage a crowd!), dig up and transplant some of the creeping phlox that doesn't do so well where it is, cook chili and cornbread, eat with Fern and Fred, catch up on computer stuff (like blog).

Oh! Check our my friend, Linda Underhill's new book: The Way of the Woods

I was fortunate enough to hear readings from it in progress at the Pond House Writers Group in Alfred. It's what all my woodsey relations (and there are lots of them!) are getting for Christmas!

Synopsis
In The Way of the Woods, Linda Underhill explores some of our nation’s most important forests, from the magnificent old-growth groves of Cook Forest in Western Pennsylvania to the endangered hemlock forests of the Great Smoky Mountains in eastern Tennessee, from the giant sequoias of the Sierra Mountains in California to the rainforest of the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State. Along the way, she also walks in ordinary woodlands, state parks, private nature preserves, and the woods surrounding her family cabin in western New York. Part memoir, part travelogue, and part meditation, The Way of the Woods examines the ways in which forests and woodlands contribute to the life and health of the planet. Each of the forests Underhill visits has a story to tell, and each of the lyrical narratives she relates about her journeys reveals an insight about forest conservation, including the importance of preserving old growth and wildlife habitat, the significance of urban forests, the role of fire in the regeneration of forests, and the ways that forests and woodlands inspire us with a sense of the sacred. Together, these stories provide the reader with many reasons to be concerned about the fate of our forests. Anyone intrigued by the beauty and mystery of the American landscape will find something to enjoy in The Way of the Woods.
Biography
Linda Underhill is the author of The Unequal Hours: Moments of Being in the Natural World. Her essays have appeared in such journals as Fourth Genre, Under the Sun, ISLE, and the Pennsylvania Review. She is former Chairperson of the Humanities at the University of Pittsburgh at Bradford and is currently a Visiting Professor of English at Gettysburg College. She lives in Wellsville, New York.

Chloe is a Russell

This is Chloe! She's seven years old and belongs to our daughter, Spring. When Spri was in high school she had a little trouble with the NY State Regents Exam in Math. After two shall we say "not passes" we asked her what it would take, and she said, "A Jack Russell puppy!" Which worked perfectly. Spring just graduated from college and moved into her own apartment, so Chloe just moved out. We couldn't stand the nest being quite that empty, so we are getting a new puppy, a little Russell girl named "George" after our old beagle. Georgie was born last Thursday night. We had to pick her out then because we wanted the whole dog this time and tails get docked by day three. I wish the breed standards would get over amputating doggie parts. It just ain't right or necessary. Fern made up a poem about Spike's missing tail one time:

"Over hill and over dale
Spike's been looking for his tail
It's been missing from his bum
Since the day that he was born . . .

There's more to it than that, but I can't recall it right now.
Here's Chloe's Rhyme:

Chloe is a Russell

Chloe is a Russell and a Russell is a pup
Who has to see what’s happening and needs to know what’s up!

She bosses all the other dogs, attitude is all
And no one dares to tell her that she’s really very small!

She’s as savage as a lion; she’s as growly as a bear
All the toys belong to her; she doesn’t like to share!

She really likes her Squeaky fish, she really likes her ball
You must throw them down the stair well; you must fling them down the hall!

She drops Squeaky in the in the tub because she knows that he should swim
Then she’ll stare at him and tremble till you finally rescue him!

She’s busy in the orchard, and she’s busy in the yard
And she’s busy in the woodlot; little dogs work very hard!

She rushes after rabbits and she scurries after squirrels
And she chases all the chipmunks; she’s a very busy girl!

She terrorizes chickens and she exercises deer
And she just despises garter snakes, a Russell knows no fear!

She can’t be caught for cuddling, she’s got no time for mush
There’s a woodchuck in the pasture and a Russell’s in a rush!

And when the day is over, and she’s finished with her fun
And her Russell heart is happy, and her doggie work is done

A tired little Chloe hops up on the bed
And crawls beneath the covers, and let’s me stroke her head.

Four Footed Rhymes

Do you love you critters as much as I love mine? Here's our dog, Spike, in the center, surrounded clockwise from left to right, by daughters, Fern, Spring, husband, Fred (Wiz), and Jack Russell, Chloe. Lately, to rest my mind from the novel-in-progress, I've been playing with rhymes for my pets. I'm working on a collection of them. I adopted Spike, a handsome black and white Aussie with a Hollywood face, when he was less than a year old, after his owner's house burned down. He was tied outside in the early morning and saved three lives by barking. He's ten years old now and slowing down a bit, but he still has a thing or two to say about the salad spinner, young men jumping off docks, children fighting, my neice, Mindy, River Dancing . . . He loves excitement!

Speaking of salad, lucky me, my husband grows fresh greens all year round in his cold frame and we have salad almost every day. I can't remember when I last bought lettuce. Better yet, he likes to make the salad and his own special, incredibly delicious dressing, which he calls "Black Beauty" because the balsamic vinegar and powdered kelp he uses in it makes it quite dark. (If you'd like the recipe, I might be able to talk him into giving it out. We've talked about marketing it but I'm fairly sure he'll never get around to it.)

Lately we've been eating salads made of raw, tender young dandelion greens. which are absolutely delicious. He also digs and boils the whole plants--a good spring tonic and yummy with a tad of butter and vinegar. The best salad is arugula with toasted pine nuts and grated aged parmesan cheese. Indescribable! The only trouble is I am spoiled for salads at restaurants. I have yet to order one that beats those made by Wiz. And every one starts with a rousing one-dog-alarm when the salad spinner goes into action! Things would be pretty quiet here on Toad Hill without Spike.

I have to explain that the refrain for the following was stolen from something our friend Jim Lucey once told me that his daughter Alison used to say as a tiny girl: "Nevah evah evah evah evah evah evah!" It has a lovely cadence to it and I constantly find myself telling Spike that there was nevah evah evah a better dog then him. Oh, and I forgot to say that he is Spike-number-two, named after the Border Collie I grew up with.

Spikey


When the flames were licking red and the people were in bed
He sounded the alarm and nobody came to harm!

If the little girls are fighting and there’s scratching and there’s biting
Spikey nips it in the bud before someone spills some blood!

Did you evah know a dog quite as noble and as clevah?
Why, nevah evah evah evah evah evah evah!

When Mindy came in prancing, doing kicks from Riverdancing
Spiky, bolting from his nap, stopped that rumpus in a snap!

It was Chris’s sad mistake, when he leapt into the lake
That he didn’t watch his back and Spikey launched a rear attack!

Did you evah know a dog quite as canny and as clevah?
Why, nevah evah evah evah evah evah evah!

When the dreaded salad spinner whirls and wobbles before dinner
There’s a loyal Aussie waiting to arrest that wild rotating!

And if you have a notion to create a wild commotion
He’s a self-appointed cop who will bark until you stop!

Did you evah know a dog quite as handsome and as clevah?
Why, nevah evah evah evah evah evah evah!

The Case of the Triplicate Sus/zanne Williamses!

Prepare to be confused! It turns out there are three childrens' writers out there with very similar names:
Suzanne Williams (http:/www.suzanne-williams.com)
Suzanne Morgan Williams (http:/www.suzannemorganwilliams.com)
and me (http:/ww.susanwilliamsbeckhorn.com or http:/www.susanwilliamsbooks.com)

Have fun sorting us out! We are all fabulous writers (of course!) and very different personalities. Unfortunately we live in far flung parts of the country, but I have a feeling that the fates will bring us together some day! You can tell us apart by calling us Suzanne, Suzy, and Susan respectively! Does that help?

I hated my name when I was a kid because I couldn't say it! I had a wicked lisp. It was embarassing to introduce myself as Thuthy Williamth. I wish I knew how to find my speech therapist to thank her!

I've been finding that if I roll out of bed in the morning and stagger to my desk (where my angel of a husband brings me a cup of coffee) I can get an hour or so in on my WIP (work in progress)before breakfast. I am not so tempted to check email and I think my brain is still partly in a creative, dream-state mode. Then whatever happens the rest of the day, at least I have that much to feel good about.

Spring Fever!

Here's a picture of Shadow Dancer, "Shady" being a naughty girl one morning a few weeks ago. She had snuck out under my very poorly maintained electric fence. (It's not even plugged in at the moment!) She is snacking on sunflower seed from my stone birdfeeder made by artisit and friend, Toni Moon. The kitten, Cole Porter, is watching her, maybe thinking a big, black condor has landed!

Now all the snow is gone, except for a few patches in the woods. I took Katy out for a long ride on Saturday. Even though I made her walk most of the way, with only a couple of short gallops, she jigged with excitemnet and came back soaked. Spring Fever! I had to spend a long time rubbing her dry in the sun. Didn't dare hose her in case it got cold again.

Yesterday, we worked clearing brush and dead trees in the yard, and making a fire so that we can grow morel mushrooms on the sterilized spot. Don't ask me how to grow them, I'm leaving that up to Fred. I have enough to do trying to grow novels! I also raked up a bunch of old leaves from the barbeque area for safety and for garden mulch. Went to bed with a backache, but it felt great to be able to work outside again.

Friday Afternoon

And it's been a busy week: Last Saturday I did a talk about writing and researching Wind Rider, followed by a booksigning as part of the opening of The Horse exhibit at the Carnegie Museum of Natural History in Pittsburgh. I got to meet one of my idols, researcher and curator Sandra Olsen, who was kind enough to introduce me and bring some way cool artifacts: replicas of a Botai culture pot and woman's woven hemp dress, a pair of Kazak boots, a riding whip made from a saiga antelope foot, and a horse hair rope. We sold lots of books and the exhibit, on loan from NYC was fabulous.

Missy Spring, my younger daughter (23 and just graduated from college), moved out to begin life as an adult on Tuesday. A little tearful watching the purple Honda go down the driveway, but so proud of the young woman she has become.

Wednesday, I did a talk for a teen writer's group at the Naples Library--just wish we'd had more time! What a beautiful library, nice group of talented kids, and great teacher they have in writer, Angela Cannon-Crothers.

Yesterday, met with my critique group in the morning and went to RACWI (Rochester Area Children's Writers and Illustrators) in the p.m. Much sinful burning of petroleum en route, but I listened to Three Cups of Tea and saw seven swans in a cornfield north of Dansville. They had black legs and beaks and the juveniles were quite gray. I'm thinking either tundra of trumpeter swans, either of which is pretty exciting, especially for this amature.

Today revised a couple of chapters, read brand new articles in NY Times and Science on Sandra's research on early horse domestication. The dogs have been driven wild by a woodchuck in the yard. Lot's of barking. Spring Fever!

This evening is a celebration of twenty years since the nuke-dump fight here in the souther tier. I'll bring my guitar, maybe sing my new "The Earth Child's Song."