Evening at a Country Inn

I know you are thinking of the accident–

of picking the slivered glass from his hair.

Just now a truck loaded with hay

stopped at the village store to get gas.

I wish you would look at the hay–

the beautiful sane and solid bales of hay.

— from “Evening at a Country Inn” by Jane Kenyon, wife of Donald Hall

I’ve just discovered Jane Kenyon, though I’ve known about and admired her husband’s works for some time. What I like about Jane: she’s so dependent on seasons and weather and time of day. Her poem-worlds are firmly grounded in real places. Her insecurities, her depression, her relationship with her husband, her very thoughts while she writes and while she cleans the house all become her poetry, which is lovely and intimate, not at all boring. And she admires hay bales. As do I. What is more satisfying than a field of perfect round bales, each brightened by the sun on exactly the same spot?


Report on My First Book Reading

I’m home from my first book reading, held at the Waupun Public Library. I prepared for this quite heavily because I know me. I know my heart is much braver than my brain. Sure enough, I started reading from “Master of Light” and my voice started shaking. I had to slow down, take a couple steadying breaths. My ears flamed red, and then my cheeks burned up. Probably my forehead and neck came next. I had to really give myself a pep talk… “No giving up, Amy. You can’t stop now.” I kept pushing through the sentences, and thankfully everything slowly got better.

After the talk I sold some books, signed my name quite a few times, and a friend took the money for me, which was a blessing because I was far too distracted to do mental math.

My kids came to hear me talk, and my three-year-old kept asking me afterward, “Why did you have to do the sermon?” 🙂 Well, I may not be a preacher, but I’m thanking God right now for getting me through this night. Now I can concentrate on Christmas for awhile!

Owl Moon

It was late one winter night,

long past my bedtime,

when Pa and I went owling.

There was no wind.

The trees stood still

as giant statues.

And the moon was so bright

the sky seemed to shine.

Somewhere behind us

a train whistle blew,

long and low,

like a sad, sad song.

Thus begins the children’s tale, Owl Moon, by Jane Yolen (copyright 1987). It’s a favorite story of my three little ones, who are all a little scared and very fascinated by what goes on in the dark outdoors. When we leave to go somewhere, and it is dark outside, before they get in the car they dash into the night and back again, “doing a brave,” as they call it. I notice they never do this quietly. In Owl Moon, being quiet gives the winter woods adventure more importance. My children do want to go owling, “but not until we’re a little older,” they say with a sideways glance out the dark window.


Cats, Franz Marc, c. 1910
Cats, Franz Marc, c. 1910

A friendly cat adopted our family this week. The kids and I are delighted. Watching a cat is so mood-lifting. This Franz Marc painting makes me smile, too, and I believe it’s in the attitude. The marks, the colors, the subject matter, the circular composition–they all work together to create a fun, loving attitude, not just toward cats, but also toward art. I enjoy looking at his paintings in about the same way I enjoy watching our new cat knead her paws on the kitchen rug.

My Upcoming Events

I’ve added a new page to my blog: Events. Those of you who live in my part of Wisconsin might consider coming to one of these!

I will be doing a Book Reading and Signing at the Waupun Public Library on December 10, 2013 at 6:30pm.

On January 9, 2014, I will be doing a Book Reading and Signing at MUGS Coffee Shop in Ripon, Wisconsin at 6:00pm.

I anticipate doing a reading at the Ripon Public Library, and I will let you know the date and time when those details get finalized.

Getting my book, A Flower in the Heart of the Painting, published sure has led to some new experiences for me! I hope to share parts of my book and insights into my writing life at these events.