Your Daily Miracle: A Morning Hung with Webs
I have perhaps ten minutes to write, so I'll be brief. I finished another draft--the ninth--of Magnificent Maple today. Goodness. What a process. I went in with garden shears and hacked it into a thousand pieces. Then I threw away perhaps 1/3 or more. I knew I had to do it; I had a vision for how to do it; and all I needed, then, was the courage to throw away the toil of my hands. But I'm getting good at that. Parenthood, in fact, toughens you to the editing process. Like that thing you have? Don't hold on too tightly because it will probably be broken, stained, or cut by a child at some point.
Like that chapter you toiled over? Too bad. It's gone, every word, every letter. Oh, and another chapter, and another. . . .
But I have to say, I feel a sense of excitement, if perhaps, at last, I've found Maple's story. I love Maple as a character and I love her world--a street that celebrates diversity, a school full of multilingual kids (I began my first draft in Houston, TX, about a decade ago--I've left it and gone back to it intermittently since). I love America at its best--a place that celebrates all the different cultures that find a place in this country--and Maple's world is like a wee utopia in that sense. Of course she's got her problems and third grade does not feel like utopia to her, and I love that, too.
Also, I've been teaching myself more little scraps of Spanish, and though I know so little, I love it as a language. I love to hear it spoken and I love to try to speak it. Like Maple, I'm bungle through pronunciation and pick up a few words here and there.
O, Google translator, my funny companion, how I love thee, though sometimes your translations are wildly inaccurate. (Caroline and Ilich, are you reading this? I have a job for ustedes!)
But I didn't actually mean to write about Maple.
What I meant to write about was this morning, when the fog hung so thick I couldn't see to the end of the street. I could hardly wait to get out in it. So as soon as the kids were at school, I took Charley out for a walk. What a magical world I found--the familiar completely transformed. And most amazing: the spider webs.
Autumn produces loads of spiders, and I know there's science behind it, but I don't know what it is. Perhaps every morning holds such a wealth of webs, and I can't seem them (sometimes I don't know of their existence until I walk through one and it sticks all over my head. Yelch). This morning, water droplets clung to a thousand webs and brought each thin line into focus. Hundreds clung to the low bushes around the corner; it looked like someone had gone loco with Halloween decorations. The huge blackberry thicket was full of intricately woven silken threads. The most spectacular web of all shone on our front porch, as big as our window. I cannot emphasize how these webs covered the world! Their sheer number amazed me; the artistry of each one humbled me and filled me with gratitude.
Thanks to the misty, moisty morning.
And thanks be that the mist finally burned off and now the sun shines.
Or should I say: El sol está brillando.
Like that chapter you toiled over? Too bad. It's gone, every word, every letter. Oh, and another chapter, and another. . . .
But I have to say, I feel a sense of excitement, if perhaps, at last, I've found Maple's story. I love Maple as a character and I love her world--a street that celebrates diversity, a school full of multilingual kids (I began my first draft in Houston, TX, about a decade ago--I've left it and gone back to it intermittently since). I love America at its best--a place that celebrates all the different cultures that find a place in this country--and Maple's world is like a wee utopia in that sense. Of course she's got her problems and third grade does not feel like utopia to her, and I love that, too.
Also, I've been teaching myself more little scraps of Spanish, and though I know so little, I love it as a language. I love to hear it spoken and I love to try to speak it. Like Maple, I'm bungle through pronunciation and pick up a few words here and there.
O, Google translator, my funny companion, how I love thee, though sometimes your translations are wildly inaccurate. (Caroline and Ilich, are you reading this? I have a job for ustedes!)
But I didn't actually mean to write about Maple.
What I meant to write about was this morning, when the fog hung so thick I couldn't see to the end of the street. I could hardly wait to get out in it. So as soon as the kids were at school, I took Charley out for a walk. What a magical world I found--the familiar completely transformed. And most amazing: the spider webs.
Autumn produces loads of spiders, and I know there's science behind it, but I don't know what it is. Perhaps every morning holds such a wealth of webs, and I can't seem them (sometimes I don't know of their existence until I walk through one and it sticks all over my head. Yelch). This morning, water droplets clung to a thousand webs and brought each thin line into focus. Hundreds clung to the low bushes around the corner; it looked like someone had gone loco with Halloween decorations. The huge blackberry thicket was full of intricately woven silken threads. The most spectacular web of all shone on our front porch, as big as our window. I cannot emphasize how these webs covered the world! Their sheer number amazed me; the artistry of each one humbled me and filled me with gratitude.
Thanks to the misty, moisty morning.
And thanks be that the mist finally burned off and now the sun shines.
Or should I say: El sol está brillando.
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