For example, during a recent planning meeting for an event, the facilitator turned out the lights and began a computer presentation on some sort of digital board. I’ve never seen this contraption before. At one point, I attempted to help the instructor erase the chalkboard. (No kidding!)
I’ve never felt completely at ease with the year in which I was born. Surely, I should have lived during some prior time—some earlier generation, or even century.
I guess this is why I’ve escaped to the desert, where I’ve turned back the clock. A chocolate custard pie made with a double boiler, home-canned relish, sewing by hand, crocheting, heirloom garden, raising heritage turkeys, chickens, and goats for meat. Simple and old-fashioned.
Sometimes I forget
‘when’ I am.
On days when my husband and I go into town to run errands, it feels strange–like going into another world. I guess he feels this way, too. One day he says, “When we come home, I feel like I’m going back into time.”
I think about that statement for a long while, the writer in me tossing and turning to make sense of it.
And then the idea for a new book takes shape. At first, the story begins as a simple pioneer settlement that travels back into the 1600s to live beside the Gila River near the location of my present-day home.
As I research what central Arizona was like during this timeframe, I realize that things are not as I had expected . . . and the story evolves, becoming more complex and meaningful.
Now in the early research phase of this book, I plan to share what I’ve learned.
Close your eyes and imagine mesquite, willow and cottonwood forests embracing a living river, forming a sanctuary for native plants and wildlife. Native Americans bring the desert to life with heirloom seeds, Spanish missionaries, and more.
Characters take shape from the fog of my mind and interact with each other. I can almost see the adobe buildings of the settlement, just beyond the ridge . . . over there. Do you see it?
Watch for future posts.
Maybe you’ll want to go back in time, too.