Saturday, September 28, 2013
Once I saw a home with a room just for weaving and thought that would be so cool. I only have a small beginner's loom and it looks intimidating! I am determined to follow through with this to have a challenging new hobby and try different yarns to make scarves and wall hangings. I will work my way up to a room size loom...
Posted by Kristina at 4:17 PM
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Friday afternoon I had to leave school to drive directly to a Cross Country Meet that our school was hosting. It was a beautiful afternoon, but I was tired and my feet hurt. I would have liked nothing more than to go home and put my feet up and relax on the porch.
We got our instructions and headed over to our assigned posts. I was to point the runners to a specific destination when they ran out of the woods.
I was beginning to enjoy all the different shades of green of the woods when I saw two of my students and their younger siblings making their way across the field. They had found a praying mantis and they were coming to show me their find.
This...this is what makes it all worthwhile. Their delighted faces, flushed red with exertion and excitement, the fact that it was after school, but they wanted to make the connection. They knew I would be interested and I was.
The praying mantis will become a symbol of this for me: to remember one of the reasons I do this and what makes it so rewarding.
Posted by Kristina at 5:36 AM
Saturday, September 7, 2013
It was four thirty in the afternoon on a warm summer afternoon and Kasni Vittuli was thinking about calling it a day.
She was supposed to work on her writing until five o’clock, but being an author she was her own boss and could make her own hours. When you write in an old garden shed behind your home, it doesn’t take long for the commute home.
She sat there enjoying a slight breeze wafting in through the screen door of the shed, staring at a vase of wildflowers that sat on her desk, gathering up the energy to make the trek up to the house. As her eyes rested on her unfinished manuscript, she felt a pang of guilt for stopping early. She knew she had a deadline and it had to be finished by the beginning of September. Yet, when the storyline was based on her own life, it was hard to relive all of those experiences day after day, even though she was tweaking the facts and changing scenes to make that fact less recognizable.
Why had she thought this a good idea, to base the novel on the happenings of her life? It hadn’t been easy to live through the events in the first place, why would she want to rehash the painful memories that lingered long afterward?
She pushed back her chair and stood up, going over to the screen door to look out over the yard leading to the house. The lawn stretched lush and green up to the gardens that surrounded the house, with wildflowers and roses tangling amongst the shrubs and bushes. She made an effort to begin closing the windows, but paused as the phone began to ring. She hesitated a moment, wondering if she should just let the machine pick up, but then picked it up and answered.
“Kasni?” a somewhat familiar male voice responded to her greeting. Her heart beat faster at the sound of his voice, but no, it couldn’t be, not after all of this time.
“Garan?” she questioned softly, “Garan Karl?”
“Kasni, I’m in trouble. Can you help me?”
“What is it? What has happened?”
“They put me in rehab. I’m going crazy here. I need to get out of here or I’ll lose my mind.”
“Garan, if you are in rehab it’s because it is what is best for you. I don’t want to interfere with that.”
“Kasni, I thought you would understand how this is. You are the only one who ever understood me.” His voice relayed his desperation, and sounded nothing like the confident Garan of old.
“ I don’t know about that, Garan. I’ve never understood drug use.”
“You would’ve never done this to me. Come and get me!” Suddenly the call was terminated and she was left listening to the dial tone. She had no intention of getting involved with him again, especially in this situation. But the afternoon had suddenly changed, the sunshine darkened somehow, and her comfortable life disturbed from this call out of the past. Perhaps that was what she deserved for dabbling in the past in her writing.
Posted by Kristina at 11:23 AM
Monday, September 2, 2013
The strong breeze of the early evening had dissipated; it was warm and still in that crepuscular time before the darkness sets in. The lightning was jumping from cloud to cloud across the entire southern sky, sometimes just lighting up a cloud from behind, sometimes crackling so fast it was hard to even capture the memory of it. The lightning show continued for at least half an hour, with only the sound of crickets and an occasional swish of traffic as accompaniment. It was spectacular. I returned to the bedroom, turned my book over, switched off the light, and went to sleep.
Posted by Kristina at 7:29 AM