This is just the sort of tale I like to wander within. Thank you Ann ~ what a beautiful sharing, inspired by the living connection you tend with your ancestors 🌲
I love you, too, dear Katharine. And I know, through your incredible work, the ways you're learning to navigate a journey that might seem impossible. Finding new ways to let the land infuse you with its ever-changing wonders and beauty. 💛
It is so hard to read about the sorrows of your great - great grandparents. I don't understand such things -- but here you are, from their love, trying to console sorrows and carry joy.
Isabel, I've been meaning to tell how deeply your writing has influenced and nourished my spirit this spring! The piece you did about Emily Dickinson's herbarium was especially moving to me:
"Dust is what we all crush to eventually. Our ancestors told stories about waking from dust, their fresh lungs filled with God’s breath: it was in a garden. God walked with Adam there. And Adam composed that poem to Eve."
I filled a page in my journal with other equally beautiful quotes of your ideas in that article.
Thank you so much for that writing, which continues to echo in me.
It means a lot to me to know you're enjoying my tale. 💛
That means so very much to me to know. I prayed there could be some comfort in that piece.
I love your writing. There's something especially gossamery to me in it. It conveys such a gentle, healer spirit, as well as the exquisite minutiae of nature. Thank you.
So glad you liked this, Jos! You are always such an encouragement to me.
My best guess for the pink mushrooms are: Harrya chromapes or Chrome-footed Bolete
The are edible, but I never eat anything I see in the wild. These appeared all alone--just the two of them--along a busy city park trail. I keep watching that spot for more, but have not seen any to date. Mushrooms are so whimsical that way :-) We just never know when or where they might appear. Little magic tricks!
Ooh wonderful. I tend to nibble as a way of staying in touch with my local environment but I like to be totally 100% confident with mushrooms. Those have visible gills with possible dark spores so not boletes if I’m seeing it right. I was really curious, so my app says it’s a Pinkmottle Woodwax with 86% certainty, fwiw.
Yes, our mushrooms here tend to be very smart about when they flush. They seem to come after a good rain but wait until they can anticipate a window of rainlessness before they erupt from the forest floor.
Pinkmottle Woodwax!! What a great name--I think that's a strong possibility. My field guide calls them "Russula-like Waxcap". I like your name much better.
Jos, I'm a berry forager on the trail--nothing better than a nice juicy Mulberry :-)
It’s 2:30am and I just finished reading part one of yourfairytale. Another gem, Ann! So beautiful that you are honoring your great great grandmother. I felt your love and devotion shine in every word.
I love this, Ann! I remember that essay about your great-grandmother, it made me sad to learn how she died and at the same time happy that she was living on in your memory. This is such a special way to remember her.
You're so kind to remember Greta with me. 💛 Sara, today I drank my morning coffee from the mug you made. Then I took a long, long walk on a local trail that's new to me. It was a deep refreshment--like being somewhere else--a fairyland! Which gave me a few more ideas for my little tale. I keep thinking about how you sit down every day and center a small ball of clay--always starting fresh--with the urge to make something beautiful and useful. So human and lovely--wishing you a creative week.
Dearest Ann! It's a wonderful thing to know something I made is now part of your morning, a privilege, really ☺️.
I am looking forward to the next part of the story, and, speaking of fairy tales... I fell under the spell of morning altars, thank you so much for introducing me to them!
Thanks so much, Kim! It has been energizing to make something in tiny layers--a microseasonal sort of project that is easy to work on in small blocks of time. I really appreciate your reading! I hope you're soaking up all the goodness your own gorgeous seascape is bringing. I hope you're feeling loved in the challenging season you are in right now. May something good be coming ashore in you . . .💛💛💛
So glad you like it, Nathan. I wish that she had been more supported in her grief. And I'm not sure why, but writing this story makes me feel closer to her somehow. Also closer to everyone who tries to tell a story. I believe it's almost always a labor of love--at least on some level. Thanks so much for the beautiful stories you tell.
And yeah, that little cottage is so peace-filled. It's always so hard to leave and come back to the real world :-)
Thanks so much, Ben. I'm so honored that you read it. Attempting to write something in very small layers gives me even more respect for what you're able to do in your novels.
Aw thanks Matt! Last weekend, my dog & I had the good fortune of discovering an out-of-the-way trail that we had never hiked before. A gorgeous bluff along New Hope Creek with enough big boulders to make a comfortable, quiet writing spot. I think I'll try to edit each small part, there, in the forest, where I'll be having a Fog Chaser moment, for sure.
Those of our ancestors who have lived hard lives devoid of mercy need to be consoled even if it’s through many generations later.
I have three ancestors who need to be consoled. My great great grandfather was born blind in an Ireland where everyone was dispossessed of their land and left to starve. One of my grandmothers was the daughter of immigrants who both had died by the time she was twelve. Raised in an orphanage she and a brother were shipped out west on an orphan train to families who needed an extra hand. He got off before she did. They never saw each other again. One of my grandfathers was ten when his surviving parent died and he was sent to live with an older brother and his family. He was resented because he was an extra mouth to feed and so got the table scraps and slept out in the barn.
Goodness this is beautiful Ann, "The forest writes, and ancient oaks recall." and you are translating the stories for us to spiral into... I love your work - I can't wait to read more of this tender story. Thank you 💚🍃x
Thank you for sharing this, Ann. I am looking forward to reading more of the story of Olli and Anu.
💛🙏
This is just the sort of tale I like to wander within. Thank you Ann ~ what a beautiful sharing, inspired by the living connection you tend with your ancestors 🌲
Emma, thank you for walking with me. We are not alone across time... 🌲💛
i love you, Ann.
i love your work.
sending and holding,
sending and holding space....
🌱💙🌎🦋🩵
I love you, too, dear Katharine. And I know, through your incredible work, the ways you're learning to navigate a journey that might seem impossible. Finding new ways to let the land infuse you with its ever-changing wonders and beauty. 💛
I love fairy tales.
It is so hard to read about the sorrows of your great - great grandparents. I don't understand such things -- but here you are, from their love, trying to console sorrows and carry joy.
Isabel, I've been meaning to tell how deeply your writing has influenced and nourished my spirit this spring! The piece you did about Emily Dickinson's herbarium was especially moving to me:
https://pauljpastor.substack.com/p/half-a-transport-half-a-trouble
You wrote:
"Dust is what we all crush to eventually. Our ancestors told stories about waking from dust, their fresh lungs filled with God’s breath: it was in a garden. God walked with Adam there. And Adam composed that poem to Eve."
I filled a page in my journal with other equally beautiful quotes of your ideas in that article.
Thank you so much for that writing, which continues to echo in me.
It means a lot to me to know you're enjoying my tale. 💛
That means so very much to me to know. I prayed there could be some comfort in that piece.
I love your writing. There's something especially gossamery to me in it. It conveys such a gentle, healer spirit, as well as the exquisite minutiae of nature. Thank you.
Another moving gem, Ann. So wonderful.
Are those pink mushrooms what we call wine caps? Do you eat them?
So glad you liked this, Jos! You are always such an encouragement to me.
My best guess for the pink mushrooms are: Harrya chromapes or Chrome-footed Bolete
The are edible, but I never eat anything I see in the wild. These appeared all alone--just the two of them--along a busy city park trail. I keep watching that spot for more, but have not seen any to date. Mushrooms are so whimsical that way :-) We just never know when or where they might appear. Little magic tricks!
Ooh wonderful. I tend to nibble as a way of staying in touch with my local environment but I like to be totally 100% confident with mushrooms. Those have visible gills with possible dark spores so not boletes if I’m seeing it right. I was really curious, so my app says it’s a Pinkmottle Woodwax with 86% certainty, fwiw.
Yes, our mushrooms here tend to be very smart about when they flush. They seem to come after a good rain but wait until they can anticipate a window of rainlessness before they erupt from the forest floor.
Pinkmottle Woodwax!! What a great name--I think that's a strong possibility. My field guide calls them "Russula-like Waxcap". I like your name much better.
Jos, I'm a berry forager on the trail--nothing better than a nice juicy Mulberry :-)
This is lovely. Than you.
You're so welcome, dear Ralph! I'm so grateful for your thoughtful readership. 💛
It’s 2:30am and I just finished reading part one of yourfairytale. Another gem, Ann! So beautiful that you are honoring your great great grandmother. I felt your love and devotion shine in every word.
Thank you, Stella. And much love to you as you continue to move through your own grief with tenderness and a creative spirit. 💛💛
I love this, Ann! I remember that essay about your great-grandmother, it made me sad to learn how she died and at the same time happy that she was living on in your memory. This is such a special way to remember her.
Thank you for Monoflora.
You're so kind to remember Greta with me. 💛 Sara, today I drank my morning coffee from the mug you made. Then I took a long, long walk on a local trail that's new to me. It was a deep refreshment--like being somewhere else--a fairyland! Which gave me a few more ideas for my little tale. I keep thinking about how you sit down every day and center a small ball of clay--always starting fresh--with the urge to make something beautiful and useful. So human and lovely--wishing you a creative week.
Dearest Ann! It's a wonderful thing to know something I made is now part of your morning, a privilege, really ☺️.
I am looking forward to the next part of the story, and, speaking of fairy tales... I fell under the spell of morning altars, thank you so much for introducing me to them!
💛💛💛
So much love in this post. Cannot wait to read the entire fairy tale.
Thanks so much, Kim! It has been energizing to make something in tiny layers--a microseasonal sort of project that is easy to work on in small blocks of time. I really appreciate your reading! I hope you're soaking up all the goodness your own gorgeous seascape is bringing. I hope you're feeling loved in the challenging season you are in right now. May something good be coming ashore in you . . .💛💛💛
I can already sense a deep reverence in what you've share so far. Look forward to reading more.
Thank you so much for reading, MK.
All these small, daily doses of beauty--they keep us tethered to hope.💛
Truly heartbreaking, but how heartwarming to be offering this to her.
Gorgeous Part One, Ann.
Also, omg wow that is a stunning cabin. What an incredible place to be able to visit.
So glad you like it, Nathan. I wish that she had been more supported in her grief. And I'm not sure why, but writing this story makes me feel closer to her somehow. Also closer to everyone who tries to tell a story. I believe it's almost always a labor of love--at least on some level. Thanks so much for the beautiful stories you tell.
And yeah, that little cottage is so peace-filled. It's always so hard to leave and come back to the real world :-)
It so is. It brings such a connection in so many directions. ☺️
I’m excited for this piece. You infuse all of your writing with such lustrous imagery.
Thanks so much, Ben. I'm so honored that you read it. Attempting to write something in very small layers gives me even more respect for what you're able to do in your novels.
I think you have everything it takes to write anything you put your mind to.
This is gorgeous, Ann - wow. Lovely start, and a lovely way to honor this part of your family history. Can't wait to read more of this story.
Aw thanks Matt! Last weekend, my dog & I had the good fortune of discovering an out-of-the-way trail that we had never hiked before. A gorgeous bluff along New Hope Creek with enough big boulders to make a comfortable, quiet writing spot. I think I'll try to edit each small part, there, in the forest, where I'll be having a Fog Chaser moment, for sure.
Those of our ancestors who have lived hard lives devoid of mercy need to be consoled even if it’s through many generations later.
I have three ancestors who need to be consoled. My great great grandfather was born blind in an Ireland where everyone was dispossessed of their land and left to starve. One of my grandmothers was the daughter of immigrants who both had died by the time she was twelve. Raised in an orphanage she and a brother were shipped out west on an orphan train to families who needed an extra hand. He got off before she did. They never saw each other again. One of my grandfathers was ten when his surviving parent died and he was sent to live with an older brother and his family. He was resented because he was an extra mouth to feed and so got the table scraps and slept out in the barn.
to be consoled . . . and to be consoling . . .
That's a beautiful way to frame it, Thomas. I hope we can be a consolation to each other, even across time. Because Love is timeless.
Very soothing and interesting, all in one. I like that little cabin...thanks
Expert carpentry. That tiny house is a jewel box. Crafted with attention to the smallest details. The high beamed ceilings make it feel like a temple.
That is cool.
Goodness this is beautiful Ann, "The forest writes, and ancient oaks recall." and you are translating the stories for us to spiral into... I love your work - I can't wait to read more of this tender story. Thank you 💚🍃x
Susie, your words always keep me feeling excited about what I’m making. Sending love right back to you! 💛