When I started my first book, about halfway through a second book came hurtling down the inspiration channel at me. It involved a second set of characters and a story that just wanted to get on the page, so I went with it. Threads were tying together the heroines in both books, even though they go in different directions. To me, it made sense that they become part of a series, so I pondered a name that would encapsulate what they both endured to move on in life.
Lotus Season resonated well, first the flower which must push through the darkness and mud to blossom, then I added season because I wanted to show that these flowers were blooming. Such incredible beauty that must face adversity to shine was the perfect parallel.
Tumbleweeds float unfettered,
down the once busy streets,
the earth breathes a heavy sigh of relief.
Animals return to fill the
space machines roamed,
engines have halted,
so birdsong takes hold.
People are anxious,
bustling lives stalled,
they don’t know how to live
in a quieter world.
Where to from here?
Do we restart the chaotic game,
or can we incorporate some quiet
and make genuine change.
© Gillian Mayne 2020
I was walking my dog, Bonnie, through the local park the other morning and we went past a stand of large pine trees. My eyes lit up when scattered underneath were some ripe pinecones, dry and open, perfect for winter fires. Growing up in a small rural town and spending a lot (I mean a lot–sorry, ma) of time on my grandparent’s farm came racing back. These small precious gifts from the pine tree were just part and parcel of farm life, as we were sent out in the summer with sacks to gather as many as we could, like little squirrels. Storing up pinecones or chopping firewood for winter was just part of the mindset when living off the land, along with baling hay for animals, or preserving fruit for dessert. So seizing the opportunity, I raced back home to grab a sack and then Bonnie and I returned to fill it up; the pinecones are now stored in the woodshed out the back.
Being a city dweller as a grown-up, I miss these rituals and the accomplishment you feel that you have prepared for winter, or the other seasons. I’ve tried in a small way to do this with some bottling but can’t say I’m 100% successful as it’s a tricky process, in my opinion. So, this winter when I light the fire, I’m going to look at those pinecones and pat myself on the back for being prepared and using nature’s gifts.
Have a great day,