Hitting a Rhythm

I like blogging. I've missed it, being away, even as I've reveled in the guilt-free ease of being out from under the daily deadline. Giving myself permission to relax and not have to do it on my usual frenetic schedule gives me clarity on a number of fronts. I'm figuring out what it means to me, what it does for me and, through your wonderfully expressed and deeply felt feedback, what it means to you and does for you. I'm trying to balance the time and work that goes into it and the entertainment value it offers to you with the hard reality that it gets in the way of my income-producing work--writing for my books and for National Public Radio, and painting a huge passel of illustrations for my bird memoir.

What's shaken out of all this reflection is that I need and want to keep posting here. I want to keep my connection to you all; I want to keep my readers happy and, I hope, growing steadily in numbers. I want to keep it up for all concerned, but posting five days a week....ehhh... ees too moishe.

As someone who reads blogs, I find that consistency is paramount in keeping me coming back. A blog needs to be reliable and consistently readable. It's a waste of your time to click every day hoping there will be an update, so I'd recommend scrolling down to the bottom of the page and clicking on the link that says "Subscribe." You can choose to get an email whenever there's a fresh post. It takes the pressure off us both while I figure out a more sustainable schedule and hit a livable rhythm that keeps us all happy.

Speaking of keeping us all happy...yesterday, we walked the length of Dean's Fork, but this time we took Bill of the Birds! We had the most wonderful time. I looked in my blogfolder and whoops! there were a whole bunch of photos from an earlier walk that were just begging to be posted. So here is a bucolic critterkidfest for you.

Walk on down, walk on down, walk on down, walk on down a country road...


Photographing kids as one would wild animals pays off in unobtrusive telephoto shots that tell a story of ease and contentment. No grinny front and center camera smiles here, thanks.

Snacktime. Baker decides he'd better anoint a fencepost so everyone knows he was here with his homies.

I get so hooked on scenes like these that I can barely hang on until the next sunny day when we can recreate them. And I don't have to talk the kids into coming along--they're all over it like the sticky on sweet. Being outside is its own reward, once you get kids over the hump of relaxing into it...

hitting a rhythm.

Chet Baker and his friend Cooper look for voles and shrews.
I know it was in here somewhere...

Baker promises to be a gemmun, but we know his promises can be hollow where other dogs are concerned.

Still, the two get along better each time they play, and each pays attention to what the other notices, like good friends do.
When we reach the bend in the road with the old log cabin, the kids always ask to linger. So I lose myself in the landscape and the barbed wire and old wood while they explore. I would love to have a little cabin down here on this forgotten road. But I'd have to have a MONSTER TRUCK to get to it. And I suspect that that's why Dean's Fork is so unspoiled, so beautiful, so all our own little secret. You can't get your Ford Fiesta through. You have to walk. It definitely cuts down on the traffic.
The kids re-enact some kind of scene of pioneer tragedy and triumph before the old log cabin. Really, all they need is water, rocks and sun to have fun. No outlets required.

I'll see you in a few days.