For some reason I always think that something profound needs to be said when showing photos of the ocean. This photo was taken last October at the beach in North Carolina and I caught it just as the waves were breaking over the wall of water beneath them. The term “wall of water” emphasizes the strength of what is created by the combination of the depth of the water, the contours of the land beneath it and the weather. Surfers can glide down a wall of water. Towns and people can be destroyed by a wall of water. The best built boats can be sunk by a wall of water. If we are lucky, we can stand safely on the shore and simply marvel at the expanse of the ocean in front of us, the constancy of it and yet the ever-changing shades of the surf as it reaches us. We can let it lap over our toes or let the foamy surface wrap around our ankles and feel the sand as it disappears from underneath our feet, pulled back to the ocean again and again. I never tire of it and very thankful that I am able to experience it once in a while. So here is your bit of ocean wonder for this morning-I hope you all experience some joy today!
Another milestone for Heirloom! It has been featured on the North Carolina Writers Network Book Buzz!
It is a great way for authors to gain "buzz" for their new books within the writing community. And I can speak for all of us when I say "Thank you! Always appreciated!"
I have learned, through this book writing process, that there are so many resources available for authors, both new and experienced. Joining the NCWN was a wonderful solution for me when I needed it! The book will also be shared on their social media.
A lot has happened since my last post—and a lot HASN’T happened! As you all are aware, we are still fighting the COVID-19 virus. We are still searching for a vaccine although progress is definitely being made. The country is in various stages of shut-down or re-opening, going back to school, either virtually or in person. Some businesses are thriving, others are shuttered. People are finding new ways to do their everyday lives—some are becoming used to the new ways, others are growing weary of it.
We, my husband and I, are somewhere in the middle. His job allows him to work. My retirement allows me to stay home and write and still go out when necessary. Some of you have suffered unimaginable, heartbreaking losses during this time. You have had to put off graduations, weddings, memorial services, vacations—each one of these life events are so important—celebrations, remembrances in the face of loss, much needed getaways to revive and refresh us or simply to visit family and friends. Nothing is really normal anymore. Travel is restricted (or maybe the better word for it is discouraged) even between some states which, in my lifetime, except maybe on 9/11, has never happened. It feels wrong in our country to not be able to go where we want, when we want, in whatever mode of transportation we want. It just doesn’t feel right, disconcerting, restrictive. But all for a good cause. We are using “the ends justify the means” philosophy for most of the restrictions which is necessary in a pandemic I guess. You can either agree or disagree with the wisdom of the restrictions and recommendations or even the validity of the reporting on the virus itself. It is for each of us to decide in a society where information is available to us and we have the freedom to make our own decisions about things. But if, at the heart of any of our personal and collective decisions, we seek to 1-do no harm, 2-love our neighbors, 3-seek the truth, we will be able to get through this together.
The photo here is from the garden at the governor’s mansion in Colonial Williamsburg. It is my version of “there is a light at the end of the tunnel”. My tunnel is green and shaded from the summer heat with a bench that allows rest along the journey.
Be kind to yourself and others. I hope you find a bench that allows rest along the way.