The Silence of Trees Chapter 1

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After feedback from my agents and a handful of editors at publishing houses, I am thinking about revising my manuscript yet again, I’ve posted the first chapter here for your reading pleasure. Feedback is always welcome.

CHAPTER ONE

There is a Ukrainian legend that once each year, on the night of Ivana Kupala, a magical flower blooms in the heart of the forest. Anyone who finds it will be granted their heart’s desire: the ability to hear the trees whisper and watch them dance, the power to make anyone fall in love with them, the magic to make barren lands bear fruit and barren women fruitful. It is a single red flower with several names: tsvit paporot, liubava, chervona ruta. The legendary bloom can grant wishes, open the doorway to the past, and awaken spirits to visit with loved ones.

I looked for the tsvit paporot when I was a young girl. I searched for it in many places, in different countries, over a lifetime. I eagerly went into the unknown, looking for magic, for mystery, for adventure. But sometimes magic finds you. Sometimes it comes in the least likely of forms: in a small black river rock, a deck of hand-painted cards, a sprig of purple herb or an envelope from home.

Just when you think that life is slowing down, magic happens. The universe sends you a message, like a tsvit paporot on your doorstep. The question is, what do you wish for?

At the age of sixteen, more than anything, I wanted to have my fortune told by the mysterious vorozhka, the Gypsy woman who camped with her people on the outskirts of our Ukrainian village. Mama expressed her disapproval countless times, but so many of the young women had gone before me and came back with astonishing stories. The vorozhka told Mariyka that she would travel across the sea in search of kisses heavy with perfume. She told Darka that she would find many children gathered around her feet on her father’s farm. Even Olena, who dreamt of going to school in Lviv to study languages, went to see the vorozhka who told her that she would soon ride a train heavy with hope. After finishing my chores, I would sit with Khvostyk purring in my lap and dream of the vorozhka’s predictions. Read the rest of Chapter One here…

Today is made of yesterday

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I heard back today from the hardware store, and my missing notebook has been found!

*Does happy dance*

I am SO grateful. Upon first glance it seems like just a spiral bound notebook full of kid scribbles (because Lana got into one day), but it contained all my notes for Conclave and some house measurements as well.

Last night I was feeling tired and a tad grumpy, so I went to bed early. Tonight I shall brew coffee and strive to be uber-productive.

Catch up

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I’m so behind with posts.
I keep waiting for the ever elusive "more time" to appear.

It hasn’t. It’s been a good month, however. Full of transitions and reflection and inspiration.

A few months ago, Mark and I made plans to go to Philadelphia for the wedding party of Kyle Cassidy and

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. It was going to be our first weekend away from the kids since our oldest was born, six years now. We didn’t realize then that it would fall on the weekend before our move into Casa del Lobos, or that the weekend would be surrounded by job/family/house chaos..

Mark had to cancel his ticket due to a work conference and house-related responsibilities, but we decided that I would go on alone. Trillian kindly found me lodging with a friend in the neighborhood and off I went to Philadelphia. The happy couple was so generous and gracious, and I felt completely at home surrounded by their friends and cats and art and photography and creative talk and and and…It was wonderful.

I was reminded how much I missed that kind of interaction while in Germany. Outside of the Frankfurt writers group, I had little contact with folks making art or discussing things creative.

Unfortunately I forgot my camera at home, and so I came armed only with a disposable camera. My camera cowered in the presence of all those powerful professional cameras (Kyle is an amazing photographer who has photographed the Dalai Lama, famous science fiction writers, flying girls, and early black and white film starlets reincarnated as cats.)

I was able to attend a special dress rehearsal of Trillian’s show The Weir, and it (and she) blew me away. It’s the kind of play that I couldn’t shake for days after. The characters and their stories lingered in my imagination; I wanted to join them in the pub for a pint to hear more of their stories and share some of my own. Trillian’s performance was tender and subtle, and when it came to her dramatic monologue toward the end, I completely choked up. I miss theater.

The wedding party was wonderful, a patchwork of friends and family there to celebrate the union of these two passionate, imaginative, thoughtful people. Kyle and Trillian have one of those partnerships that reminds you how much fun love can be. I was so happy to have met them, and I hope that even with the miles between our homes, we continue to find time and space to share food, laughter, and conversation. I met a few ladies on the trip, Trillian included, whom I connected with immediately, and I can foresee future breakfasts and adventures.

I returned home to finish packing up the apartment and then moved into Casa del Lobos (where we still do not have a kitchen or full baths). I’m working on creative crockpot cookery with the kids. So far, so good. Our friend Vince, a talented fine artist and painter, is in the process of painting and faux painting our downstairs. I LOVE it and will try to post pictures soon. He’s fabulous and brings such a good energy to the house.

The renovation is coming along, and I have hope that we’ll be finished with this phase by the winter holidays. In the meantime I am horribly behind with Conclave Journal, as well as my own writing. Hoping to catch up this week while Mark is away at a supercomputing conference and other geeky work shenanigans.

With that, I bid you good night. More to come…

xxo