The Tidal River writers gather for a workshop. (Photo courtesy Merry Barn)
Introduction by Stephanie Noyes McSherry
The Lincoln Home’s Tidal River Writers recently wrote in response to a selection titled “Done With Waiting,” from “The Comfort of Crows,” by Margaret Renkl.
Feb. 24 was a warm sunny day, which gave us hope that spring would come. We knew, of course, that Mother Nature was playing games with us, but we chose to relish the sense of possibility.
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A day when the snow is melting after a stretch of real cold and no sun. Spring may be there in the South. In the North, after storms and floods, spring may be safety for a few weeks. Now we might believe in spring peepers. But the season is confusing. It’s cold, or wet. When will it be hot and dry, and will that be any better?
– Zibette Dean
It’s winter, but spring is “already here.”
“We’ll pay for it,” an Old Timer tells us.
We know he’s right; and yet we delight in the beauty of the day.
– Zibette Dean
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The peepers at the edge of the pond are the most spring-like thing I know. Not like flowers whose way of being is a joy – the fragrance of new leaves, grass, blossoms herald better days. The poor homely frog sings like mad – he’s not handsome, not fragrant, not joyous color. But he has a song, and he doesn’t hesitate to share it – loud and long. A chorus with his friends makes their neighborhood larger (?), and spreads far and wide. It’s a generous sharing of the only thing he has to offer. He has “his own excuse for being.”
– Olive Hart
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In this season of gray, monochrome, I, as an artist who revels in painting with color, yearn for the dimension sunshine adds to the ordinary. This season, it seems, the only true color to be found is in a full-blown sunrise or sunset … a rich cerulean band of blue provides the backdrop for purple clouds, lit from below in burnt orange and scarlets. Closer to the horizon, the last rich glow of gold hovers, dancing on the water and painting streaks across the sky.
Standing still, I stop, pause, breathe it in. My camera can’t capture the richness, or the depth of color. But in my heart, and mind’s eye, the image is committed to my memory bank, ready to emerge as I stand at my easel with a wide range of colorful pastels to choose from. Color informs the story that wants to be told. Bringing hope, speaking of a joy found in one solitary moment of contemplating a flash of inspiration from nature.
– Kim Traina
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The cover of “The Comfort of Crows,” by Margaret Renkl (Courtesy photo)
Lovely springlike day – can you disappoint us? Yes, she does, over and over again. A glorious spring day followed by days, weeks of gray skies, sullen clouds, and chill winds.
Why am I not wary? I fall for your charm every time, enjoying the respite from winter and thinking, “She’s here.”
But like a faithless lover she goes, leaving me with winter disappointments.
– Jean Nuss
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Another dreary day – cold and bright and sunny. Good for my five window boxes of geraniums, even though they are currently taking a much needed rest from blooming. There will be time for springing into bloom. It’s still cold here, very cold at night.
May my good old geraniums come out agai around the season of snow drops, and just before forsythia and pansies. May they fill the wait time before spring.
– Jean Lincoln
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Today is the day of blue sky. The Damariscotta River mirrors this reflection of a beautiful sunshine. Looking out of my apartment window with the aid of binoculars, I see black ducks and Canada geese just placidly swimming along. After the last snowstorm, there was a lot of snow on the branches.
– Peggy Andrews
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Everchanging River,
You are constant:
Always beautiful, always there.
As I let my light shine boldly,
I see others do the same.
– Joan Dinsmore
