The continuing saga of a writing residency. The writer learns, to her dismay, that she cannot eat bacon like a twenty year old any more.
Though I learned last year, to my chagrin, that too much bacon can be too much of a good thing, I failed to learn that too much salad can also be too much for a good thing. So I was up rather late, and also rather early, and today has been kind of a sleepy day.
But one advantage to being up too early is that you get to see the morning rise in the mountains, and you can watch the sunshine slowly enter the miniature meadow behind your studio. And now, the end of the day, I’m feeling very tired but much better – and satisfied with the writing I did. No pine martens seen today (possibly because I thought I’d try to get a picture of one today – they are jolly, yes, but they appear to also be sneaky). There is a squirrel which seems to follow Leighton Artists’ Colony people around, cussing at the top of its squeaky little voice. It threw a pine cone at me last night. For reals. It tossed a pine cone at my head as I walked by and yelled at me until I was gone (probably something along the lines of ‘get off my lawn, you human!’).
The studio is lovely and quiet. The writing is going very well. The point of the colony, apparently, is to provide a ‘solitary retreat,’ and it’s very much that. There is the quiet crunch of gravel from the path as a colonist walks by to their studio, but we’re all quietly working on our projects and not interrupting each other. I’ve met Gabe the poet, and there is a filmmaker who has a studio and also is in the room next to mine (she’s very cool). But for the occasional glimpse of somebody walking to their studio, though, and the whistle of a tea kettle heard when I stepped out onto the deck with my cup of tea, I’d think it was just me and the angry squirrel.
The funny thing is that long, long ago – when I was still a school girl (yes, long ago!) I had a private fantasy of a cabin in the woods. Granted, mine faced a lake with a mountain behind it, but this cabin – which faces a tiny meadow in the middle of pine and birch trees – is eerily similar to the one I had imagined for myself. The writer I thought I would someday become.
It’s not so often that wish-fulfillment is achieved.
Breakfast: apple juice and yogurt (was feeling a bit iffy)
Lunch: California rolls and an orange soft drink (was starting to feel better)
Dinner: beef hamburger with white cheddar and bacon, fries, and Coke in a glass bottle (!) (feeling much better)