I got interviewed!

It's nice to have your face in the newspaper for something nice.... loved how the article turned out, too.

Rivers

It’s interesting how you can be frightened of what you love. I grew up next to a gorgeous river. The South Yuba is a playground of smooth white granite, almost too hot to sit on during summer afternoons, but sizzlingly delicious when you come out of the water wet and dripping. The pools are turquoise-green, and the currents are smooth, strong, and loving. When I was younger, we stayed on the sandy beach, swam out to where the water was just above our heads, and quickly came back. As I got older I allowed my friends to convince me to venture further upstream, fighting rapids, clinging to rocky corners to catch my breath, standing on smooth, tall underwater boulders that we knew about only because we swam it so much. Carefully, we’d edge into the full wash of waterfalls, find a place to wedge ourselves, and pretend it was a particularly ferociously jetted tub.

Jeff and I camped on our honeymoon. We chose a few cheap, spartan tent-sites around Monterey Bay and followed a line along the coast up into the giant forests of Northern California. One of the places we made camp in Monterey was a mile walk from the beach. I remember hiking along a narrow trail through grassy fields overarched by eucalyptus trees. There were a lot of butterflies, particularly swallowtails. We picked some fennel that grew along the path and tasted it. The bay, when we got there, was beautiful--blue, warm and sunny,with a giant rocky arm stretching around to the North. Bodysurfers were using it to launch themselves into the waves. I waited on shore, sitting among piles of bleached white branches that lined the beach, and allowed the water to bury my ankles while Skywalker ventured further out. I tried not to think about giant tidal waves. I was glad when he returned.

We went whale watching. I enjoyed standing on the prow of the boat, but was relieved when we got back to shore. And while they were great memories, I was even more glad when we left the ocean and ventured into the redwoods.

My worst nightmares involve tidal waves. I actually dreamed of one the night before the Indonesian Tsunami. Sometimes they’re giant walls of water that send streams of vapor stretching into the sky as far as I can see. Sometimes they’re boiling masses of grey, rising up against a cliff or ledge where I am standing with my family.

The river I live close to now is mostly shallow, wide, and full of bright trout. The rocks on the bottom glow in jewel tones when the sun hits them just right. Grassy islands and trestle bridges, mysterious hollows and miniature forests make me think of some of the darker fairytales. Giant, white-winged birds squat in the middle to fish. In the summer, it is dark green. In the winter, it is an icy jade color. There is a spot at the city park where I can walk out onto a volcanic ledge and watch a terrible descent of rapids pour over jutting rocks, ricocheting out in spray patterns that remind me of feathered headdresses. One of my friends is convinced that the spirit of an Indian chief lives on the island just a stone’s throw from her front porch.

We have a pond in our backyard. I promised myself I’d take my kids out there every day this summer and teach them to swim. I don’t feel comfortable living around water. I worry, and sometimes dream of terrible things happening. But the odd thing is, sitting there right next to what could be (in my mind) instantaneous death can bring a sort of roaring peace. I don't know if it's the calm of sitting just next to ferocity, or the sound of rushing water itself filling the senses entirely so there's no room for anything else, but I am grateful for my rivers.

Review of Crater Lake, by Steve Westover

Steve Westover asked me to review the advance review copy of his middle-grade adventure and fantasy-fiction, Crater Lake: the Battle For Wizard Island.

Crater Lake was a fun and interesting read. It will appeal to its intended audience, and it is a rarity; a story directed to middle-grade boys. We need more of those.
I felt that the legend, geography, mythology and overall imaginative conceptualization of the world of Crater Lake were very well done. The characters are perfect—a quarreling pair of siblings, a jock/bully, a cute girl, the good boy scout. Any kid who picks this up will find someone to identify with. I enjoyed the interactions between the characters. I appreciated that they were generally consistent, without improbable changes in personality or behavior.

My favorite thing about this story is the sense that it’s not a cozy little world Westover has created; there is real danger. Overall there was a feeling of eeriness and impending adventure (or doom) throughout the story, which drives the reader in spite of the disturbing tragedies that occur in the course of the story. I did feel that there was a little bit more of that than I’d expect in a middle-grade book (tragedy, particularly as one of the tragedies remains unresolved at the end) but the violence isn’t such that I would keep my children from reading it. Overall, I recommend this book to anyone with grade-school aged children, boys in particular—they will love it.

You can buy a copy of Westover's book here.

Professional Whining

I'm whining over on my professional site today about how writing sometimes brings feelings you don't expect.

Yes, I realize that whining and professional are pretty much mutually exclusive. I'm not apologizing.

Introducing: Chumba

Our newest edition. (and yes, I used edition, not addition, purposefully. I'm punny like that.)

I was trying to come up with a good blog name for him. I sent this picture to my SIL's wall on facebook,

and she commented that he was a cute little Chumbawumba. IT fits, doesn't it?

Things We Say: Good Job!

So lately, baby Rose (who isn't so much baby anymore as toddler) has been cheering me on.

Rose: Mama, did you change Chumba's diaper?

NSG: yep.

Rose: (gasps) Good Job!




Rose: Mama, are you making lunch?

NSG: yes.

Rose: Oh, good job, mom. Good job!



Rose: Mama, did you shut the door?

NSG: Yep, I did.

Rose: Good job!!! (pats my hand)



It makes me giggle, but I realized something today. I like having a cheerleader. And I do a lot of little things that don't seem all that important but, when added up together, actually are pretty important to some people. Some important people.

So maybe I should let Rose's voice (which, let's face it... isn't always going to be there congratulating me) continue mentally. I should be telling myself, "good job," for the little things.


Or maybe Rose will always be my cheerleader. One can hope.

My poems are in a contest... go and vote!!

So Spring Runoff is coming to an end on Wilderness Interface Zone, the LDS nature-writing blog which I love and adore and have contributed to for a while. There are a lot of great poets and a lot of great poems in the running this year. I put the title the way it is to attract people to this blog post (because you guys are so awesome and loyal... I knew that if I wrote "go vote in a poetry contest" you wouldn't be as likely to come and see as if I put "my poems are in a contest") but I want you to read all the poems and vote for the ones you like. I mean, if you have the time. Or go read half and vote for the ones you like, or just read a few and vote for them if you like them. I just want more people to go and see that LDS poets are great, because sometimes we get a bad rap.
Instructions and voting ballot, and link to the poems are all here.