My Last Book Giveaway of the Year

Hi, All,
Just a short post to let you all know that I’m giving away two signed copies of CASUALTIES on Monday, December 12. Win one for you and one for a friend, or if you already have a copy – you’ll have special gifts for two friends. For details, just click below. Thanks for all your support!  Gratefully yours, Betsy

HOLIDAY BOOK GIVEAWAY

youregolden

Today’s Walk: A Quiet Dawn

“I haven’t got any special religion this morning.  My God is the God of Walkers.” –   Bruce Chatwin, In Patagonia

Sunday morning. The mist so thick I woke to the sound of water dripping from the edge of the roof outside my window. I went out to watch a “Super Moon” descend and the morning slowly claim the sky.

img_20161016_062535053

img_20161016_062630850

img_20161016_063327100

img_20161016_064317335

img_20161016_064354463

img_20161016_064455351_hdr

img_20161016_072029123

img_20161016_072251984

I’ve been walking for well over a year now, not every day and not always as far as I would like, but it is now part of me. I look for that moment each day when I can get outside, get my feet moving, let the thoughts in my head go for a while. Walking has become as important to my writing as sitting in the chair.

Along the way, I usually find at least one thing that catches my eye or snags my attention and sometimes I just want to share it as I find it. No long essay. No attempt to make meaning other than what is right there. If the moment captured is not from the day I post, it means I have been casting back in my memory and photo records of my walks and unearthed a nugget I think you’ll like. I invite you to comment and share your own photos of “Todays Walk.” You can  post here or join me @EGMarro #todayswalk on Instagram, or on Twitter or Facebook.

Sunday Sentence: String Too Short to be Saved by Donald Hall

“I understood that my grief, which I still carried like comfort, was not for my grandfather. The red branch on the green trues not only the first limb of the Republic to feel the cold of the winter; it was the death of my childhood, and the knowledge of my own vulnerability.” – String too Short to be Saved by Donald Hall

img_20160911_114427622_hdr-2

I love reading them, so now I’ve joined the #SundaySentence party started by David Abrams over at the Quivering Pen and on Twitter. It’s not a review. It’s not a story. It’s just one sentence I read this week, presented “out of context and without comment” that hit me where I live. Do with it what you will.

Todays Walk: Birds of Sunset Cliffs

“Birds know themselves not to be at the center of anything, but at the margins of everything. The end of the map. We only live where someone’s horizon sweeps someone else’s. We are only noticed on the edge of things; but on the edge of things, we notice much.”

― Gregory MaguireOut of Oz

The birds of Sunset Cliffs live on the edge. For so long I walked along, barely registering them except to restrain my once young dog from chasing them over the rocks into the ocean.

img_20160915_064726972

Now that I’m on my own, they have moved from the periphery of my vision to the center. I look for the pigeons clustering along ledges in the cliffs. I watch for the flash white as gulls arc against the morning sky or see how close they will allow me to come before they leap off the edge of the rocks and dive to the water below.

The cormorants clustered on their own, proprietary rock just off shore,  sent me to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology to learn why they were lifting their wings like Dracula preparing to swoop. Turns out, their feathers do not shed water. They are simply hanging themselves out to dry.

img_20160326_181834627_hdr

I’ve begun to notice that the gulls are the early risers although very few of them appear much before  six o’clock in the morning. The pigeons emerge later, usually by 7 at one of the parking areas where a man brings bread. By mid morning, on a sunny day, all are resting on the ground along the cliffs, occupying spots reserved apparently, through some kind of avian negotiation, for their own kind.

img_20160915_071848433

The pelicans command attention and resist my efforts to capture them on film while in flight. Many times, I stop walking and look up as a squadron passes overhead, chins tucked, wings barely moving, communicating so closely with the wind and each other that the rest of us are irrelevant. At rest, they are the guardians of the pier.

img_20151226_095403816

Once I started paying attention, I started to see the precariousness of their lives. I’ve seen three gulls with one leg. I’ve seen young pigeons lose crumbs of bread to bigger, fatter, more experienced birds. I’ve watched winter storms drench the cliffs, roil the waves, toss the littler ones around like confetti and I’ve seen day after winter day how the gulls and the pelicans stare at the white caps of a winter ocean waiting for it to calm enough to fish.

img_20160106_085212845_hdr

But I’ve also seen this: a pigeon couple courting and then coupling in the middle of long afternoon of blue sky and sun, seizing the moment and then turning as one to face the ocean and the sky and whatever the future holds.

img_20160915_170218

 

 

Sunday Sentence: Land of Enchantment by Leigh Stein

“And so today I dare you to do the thing you don’t think you’re ready to do.” Land of Enchantment by Leigh Stein

img_20160911_115655021

I love reading them, so now I’ve joined the #SundaySentence party started by David Abrams over at the Quivering Pen and on Twitter. It’s not a review. It’s not a story. It’s just one sentence I read this week, presented “out of context and without comment” that hit me where I live. Do with it what you will.

Today’s Walk: Morning Dilemma

“…I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.” 
― E.B. White

Yesterday, before the mists rolled in, I rose and took my walk early. I didn’t want to stop. But I did. These moments nourished me for for the rest of the day and into today, as I sit watching the rain drip outside the window. I’m sharing a few hoping they do the same for you.

img_20160919_070702883_hdr

img_20160919_070531821_hdrimg_20160919_070454254img_20160919_065935670img_20160919_070543042img_20160919_071545058_hdrimg_20160919_072719378_hdrimg_20160919_074510305_hdr

The following two tabs change content below.

Sunday Sentence: Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

“It brought to him a disorienting strangeness, because his mind had not changed at the same pace as his life, and he felt a hollow space between himself and the person he was supposed to be.” – From Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

img_20160911_105929180

I love reading them, so now I’ve joined the #SundaySentence party started by David Abrams over at the Quivering Pen and on Twitter. It’s not a review. It’s not a story. It’s just one sentence I read this week, presented “out of context and without comment” that hit me where I live. Do with it what you will.