I really liked your descriptions in this chapter, Ann - very visual. I like those poems you included as well. The somberness of these lines especially:
A black raven calls once and brushes
away the last light. Black wing
returned to black sky.
Thank you for sharing and looking forward to reading chapter 5.
By braiding prose, poetry and parable, you've spawned intensity and anticipation that fully engages the reader. Your imagery and emotion are gorgeous, evoking emotional connections and investment. This is so well done, Ann. And Annu is now so very real to me!
Thank you so much for your insights Kim. My goodness this is so helpful for my confidence. I’m just letting each little layer build up like a nest, incorporating bits I’ve saved from my growing up years. Your generous reading is such a gift.
Thank you for your beautiful and evocative writing. I look forward to the next chapter. I, too, am weaving prose and poems in a book I’m working on, so this gives me more confidence that it can be successful . You have done it very skillfully and enhancing the reading experience. Thank you!
Kimberly, it's a joy to have you walking along with me! Thank you for reading and for your encouragement which makes me grateful and awake to possibilities for this little tale :-)
I think these kinds of things are important to portray in art as well. Sometimes the most positive art is the art that takes us to those places in a caring way.
I agree, Hasse. Maybe it helps to imagine ourselves standing in a wider room than we think we are in. I guess that’s what I love so much about the microseasons. Just living in smaller blocks of time makes everything seem more manageable somehow. Even in a particularly hard time, we can know it’s not forever.
I hadn't seriously considered the benefits of microseasons before, Ann, but the way you put, it I can definitely see it. It kind of puts the briefness of the moment in relation with the vastness of the year. Interesting!
I'm still as enchanted with your story as I was from the beginning, Ann. But the placement of the carefully chosen images at exactly the right positions in the story heightens my pleasure of reading even more. They feel intuitive and echo what is going on. I didn't know the flowers were called ghost flowers, but their bedraggled appearance made me think about the girls who drowned; and the mushroom holding a puddle of water mirrored the empty space Anni felt in her bed.
Conny, you have given me such a good insight— thank you so much. this kind of writing is an experiment for me. I never know how my work is going to resonate, and careful reading like yours is just like gold. For me, nature is a like a sympathetic mirror. Understanding of creaturely experience and daily struggles. I’m glad you feel the essence of that too.
As if you take me by the hand, lead me gently through your beautiful way of imaging and words to a yet unknown map... Ann, I love this story so much. 🍃
Susie ☺️ I was hoping to create exactly that feeling - like we're exploring something new together. Thank you for letting me know you're walking with me.
Ann, what you are weaving here is so atmospheric and rich, exactly like the forest. I can smell the earth. The restraint of what you say (and don't say) with your words is masterful. Thank you for offering this story this way.
I am sorry for the late reply, Ann. And I am really really sorry for the awkward spectacle that appeared on your screens that night… It was nice though to say hi to you!
Nathan, you never need to apologize-- to me of all people--I treasure your readership any time! And you should see my email. I used to keep to a strict practice of "inbox zero" hahaha! The number of unread emails I have now numbers the stars. And yet, nothing has exploded in my life, so I persist in blissful ignorance :-)
Tears. Soft tears.
i love you, Ann.
Thank you for leading us gently.🌱
You are the dearest, K. Sending love over the mountain 💛💛💛
How beautiful.
Thank you, LeeAnn!
I really liked your descriptions in this chapter, Ann - very visual. I like those poems you included as well. The somberness of these lines especially:
A black raven calls once and brushes
away the last light. Black wing
returned to black sky.
Thank you for sharing and looking forward to reading chapter 5.
Thanks so much, Neil. The birds have things to show us sometimes. So glad you liked my poem.
By braiding prose, poetry and parable, you've spawned intensity and anticipation that fully engages the reader. Your imagery and emotion are gorgeous, evoking emotional connections and investment. This is so well done, Ann. And Annu is now so very real to me!
Thank you so much for your insights Kim. My goodness this is so helpful for my confidence. I’m just letting each little layer build up like a nest, incorporating bits I’ve saved from my growing up years. Your generous reading is such a gift.
Couldn't have said it better, Kim!
Thank you for your beautiful and evocative writing. I look forward to the next chapter. I, too, am weaving prose and poems in a book I’m working on, so this gives me more confidence that it can be successful . You have done it very skillfully and enhancing the reading experience. Thank you!
Jennifer, how kind of you to say so! I'm happy to hear about your work, and I hope it's bringing you many hours of creative exploration.
Beautiful Ann. And I’ll admit, I feel a bit hopeful with this last sentence: Annu, let us draw beautiful maps of impossible places.
So intriguing! I love your imagination, a wild entanglement of human and non-human spirit.
Kimberly, it's a joy to have you walking along with me! Thank you for reading and for your encouragement which makes me grateful and awake to possibilities for this little tale :-)
Well I hope he speaks to her in her dreams and tells her where he is.
Stay tuned . . . and thank you for reading, Wes!
Sad and beautiful.
I think these kinds of things are important to portray in art as well. Sometimes the most positive art is the art that takes us to those places in a caring way.
I agree, Hasse. Maybe it helps to imagine ourselves standing in a wider room than we think we are in. I guess that’s what I love so much about the microseasons. Just living in smaller blocks of time makes everything seem more manageable somehow. Even in a particularly hard time, we can know it’s not forever.
I hadn't seriously considered the benefits of microseasons before, Ann, but the way you put, it I can definitely see it. It kind of puts the briefness of the moment in relation with the vastness of the year. Interesting!
So touching, Ann. I love the phrase: "winter mortality." Thank you for sharing these.
Thank you, James. I was thinking of the winter forest and the way all things are amplified in the darkness and cold of a winter's night.
I'm still as enchanted with your story as I was from the beginning, Ann. But the placement of the carefully chosen images at exactly the right positions in the story heightens my pleasure of reading even more. They feel intuitive and echo what is going on. I didn't know the flowers were called ghost flowers, but their bedraggled appearance made me think about the girls who drowned; and the mushroom holding a puddle of water mirrored the empty space Anni felt in her bed.
Conny, you have given me such a good insight— thank you so much. this kind of writing is an experiment for me. I never know how my work is going to resonate, and careful reading like yours is just like gold. For me, nature is a like a sympathetic mirror. Understanding of creaturely experience and daily struggles. I’m glad you feel the essence of that too.
As if you take me by the hand, lead me gently through your beautiful way of imaging and words to a yet unknown map... Ann, I love this story so much. 🍃
Susie ☺️ I was hoping to create exactly that feeling - like we're exploring something new together. Thank you for letting me know you're walking with me.
Ann, what you are weaving here is so atmospheric and rich, exactly like the forest. I can smell the earth. The restraint of what you say (and don't say) with your words is masterful. Thank you for offering this story this way.
I did myself a favour this morning and read all four parts in a row.
Love radiates from your words like the concentric rings of trees.
Thank you, Ann, this is truly beautiful!
Thank you for reading, dear Fotini! I'm so glad the love conveys as I always hope it will. Love heals and nourishes even across time. 💛
So good to be with you yesterday at Jonathan's reading!
I am sorry for the late reply, Ann. And I am really really sorry for the awkward spectacle that appeared on your screens that night… It was nice though to say hi to you!
Now I am going to go ahead and read part 5. :)
Love, always!
No apologies needed, Fotini! Much love to you! 💛
🙏
This is sombre and sad, Ann, but it's also beautiful, and there is real positivity in the way this part ends with the dream and this line:
Then clearly—as if he were right next to her—she heard his familiar voice speaking:
Annu, let us draw beautiful maps of impossible places.
The way you weave everything together (the prose, the poems, the pictures -- all good things with a "p"!) is (and another "p") perfect!
PS sorry I've been so absent. Too much going on in life. My inbox is a mess. Hoping to overcome that.
Nathan, you never need to apologize-- to me of all people--I treasure your readership any time! And you should see my email. I used to keep to a strict practice of "inbox zero" hahaha! The number of unread emails I have now numbers the stars. And yet, nothing has exploded in my life, so I persist in blissful ignorance :-)
This is an excellence stance to take when it comes to emails. ☺️😆
Beautiful. “She found strange maps, barely visible, carved into the bark of trees.” 😢