Marion Agnew

For  several months, I've been keeping track of five things  I'd like to remember from that month. Here's what came up in July.  I haven’t always enjoyed dental visits—often I need more work done, no matter how diligently I brush and floss, regardless of regular cleanings, thanks to insurance—but I do love the feeling of having freshly-cleaned teeth. It’s nice, like when the sweater stack is aligned. new perspective on beloved country --from the boat I may have expressed surprise in a previous month at enjoying legumes and oat-based cereals, while expressing gratitude that they have helped lower my cholesterol levels. However, there’s another reason that enjoy experimenting with legumes: it’s the experimentation part. I’m using them in cold salads this summer with fresh vegetables, different vinegars, and different spice blends. I anticipate combining them with roasted vegetables in various ways, autumn. It’s just unexpected fun. late asters (?), with bee Wild blueberry ...

We don't garden, exactly, but there's a rosebush on the septic field that produces lovely small blooms in August.  It also gets kind of weedy, and in previous years, I've taken some pruning shears to what appeared to me to be "dead branches." Did I know what I was doing? Nope. Did I do any research? Nah. I was just doing what was obvious. (Narrator: not so obvious.) This year, we had little snow and (in spite of a lot of rain in June), a relatively hot and dryish summer, so our well has been iffy. On occasion, we top it up from the lake, using the pump system at the camp next door.  This year, when I'm not actively putting water from the garden hose into the well (and no, we don't drink the well water), I've been leaving the (somewhat leaky) spray gun on the septic field. I also had the bright idea of leaving it close to the base of the rosebush. And this has been the result!   In case those photos aren't clear, green leaves and some blooms are spr...

My sister worked, for a while, as an editor at an engineering firm. Once she went to her boss because there was too much to do and she wasn't sure where even to begin. He told her, "Do something." As in, pick something, anything, and do it.  It sounds really simple, as in TOO simple, but it's turned out to be helpful advice.  Clouds probably don't feel overwhelmed. For one thing, action always helps. Standing frozen with too many competing priorities whirring in your (my) head isn't useful. If nothing else, doing something breaks the power of those non-helpful thoughts. Mine generally include, "Whatever I do will be wrong" or "I'm really going to mess up" or "When will they find out I don't know what I'm doing?" And for another, getting my hands dirty in a project reminds me of that specific project's needs.  As in, "Oh yeah, I remember now--this scene was really difficult and I couldn't figure it out and ...

So I’ve been thinking about looking deeply into things. Pulling back the curtain. Showing what happens behind the scenes. Incident 1: When I was at the dentist early this summer, he poked and drilled while I sat benumbed and reclined. Then he brought me upright in the chair and handed me a mirror. He was excited to show me the series of cracks in my back molars (and several other teeth), the stains everywhere, and the big hole he’d created and was about to fill. Yay! Because I’m a compliant person, most of the time, I looked in the mirror he was holding, but I really didn’t care. I know I didn’t muster enough enthusiasm to please him, but then again, a. No one could (he was pretty enthusiastic), b. I’ve been disappointing dentists and dental hygienists longer than he’s been alive so I’m used to it, and c. Basically, making a dentist happy is not my emotional labour to perform. Consider the hydrangea, if that's what this is: it neither toils nor spins. It knows for whom it performs ...

The wee scene below caught my eye the other day, when it wasn’t raining and I was out for a walk A small yellow weedy wildflower grows through a crack in the asphalt. It made me laugh because it’s begging to be an inspirational poster on the wall of some business conference room. Then I started wondering which word it would illustrate. Persistence? Inevitability? Endurance? Imperfection? Maybe a phrase. “Allow space to grieve,” or “You can grow anywhere you want,” or “Imperfection is where the good stuff happens.” And of course, an obvious choice: “Nevertheless, she persisted.” Nevertheless. Love it. So. Perhaps, just perhaps, there isn’t one perfect word or phrase for this photo. The “right” phrase depends on your perspective. And there are millions of those. I hope you’re enjoying your Wednesday, whether you’re the weed, the asphalt, the observer, the sun, or a fawn who’d like a little snack while crossing the street.

I've been thinking a lot about grief lately. I imagine we all have. All of us humans. Eight years ago, I took my cute boots out in the canoe. We had fun.  Whether we are or aren't "coming out of the pandemic," we have definitely been IN one, and that has held grief. Birthdays missed. Hell, births missed. Deaths, too. All kinds of celebration of life.  As society changes, in whatever way it changes in the next 2.5 years, those changes can cause new pain.  Perhaps I didn't have a "productive" stretch during the pandemic. Perhaps I have redefined "productive" and live a far happier life, more connected to things that matter. Perhaps I have merely survived. No "merely" about it, though. In any case, I am considering today whether I (and we, as a society) have been misunderstanding grief. It's not like I haven't experienced it before, and I know more grief lies in the days ahead.  As does more joy. Make no mistake, I know that, too...

I like to learn things. Or at least I think I like to learn things. Yesterday I had the chance to learn about algal blooms on Lake Superior, from the comfort of my dining room table.  Including an algal-bloom-coloured pen! It was an excellent presentation, with representation from both countries, and much useful information about distinguishing potentially toxic algal blooms from (e.g.) pollen, an annual nuisance.  At a time when communicating science has been difficult at best -- lots of folks blaming messengers, people without appropriate expertise serving as messengers, and the inevitable politicization of good health practices -- this presentation was reassuring.  The presenters addressed science and technical questions, and the hour included ways your average person, like me, can distinguish between standard algal growths (look for filaments to indicate standard growth) and potentially worrisome algal blooms. The presentation showed what useful information (like phot...

My husband and I play Wordle together. He doesn't have a phone, so I "drive" the tap-tap-tapping of letters. Sometimes three, often four, sometimes more. He's really good at (and interested in) anagrams. Stale, least, taser, etc. * I remain at some level surprised that words, which in my mind are units unto themselves, are malleable in this way. I mean, beyond root words, prefixes, suffixes, and declensions. Even if you add a bunch of those, you're working with the original concept. But letters? Huh.  In playing together, I keep bumping up against thoughts of "success." We always have fun playing, even (especially?) when it's a squeaker. So the process of playing is always successful.  But beyond fun, I am continually reminded that "success" isn't always about the green squares, or even the yellow ones.  With every play, we know more. And what you know is important, even if it’s knowledge that comes from an "unsuccessful" atte...

It’s tax season, which means piles of paper with numbers on them, on various horizontal surfaces. One measure of abundance and joy And January is also a time for end-of-year reflection and beginning-of-the-year inspiration energy.  "It's February," you say, and I say, "Okay, yes, I see what you mean." January's possibilities might have evaporated by now, this February. But have others appeared? Also: as I am trying to remember, what even is pandemic time? Regardless, the juxtaposition of the two energies (numbers and inspiration) is weird—helpful in some ways, not so much in others. Here’s the thing about numbers: they measure some things really well. Money coming in and going out, for example. The number of words written, the number of pitches/pieces/novels/poems/whatever you wrote. But they don’t measure everything.  We all know about smart goals: specific/measurable, or is it meaningful?/attainable/r-something/t-something. (I "did my own research,...

We’re upgrading our internet service, and to do this, a crew had to come out to drop a line.  When I told my sister that she looked dubious and said, “What does that mean, ‘drop a line'?“ (I get it; that’s phrase sounds like something that might happen in a bathroom, a bed, or a party.) Reflections and reality. Not a February photo. I was excited to describe it. It was so interesting to watch! The crew had a literal cable—the “line,” I’m guessing—that they had to physically connect in the real world. The line runs from the outside of our house to “our” hydro pole (we can see it from the front porch so that makes it “ours”?) and connects to other things on the pole. Then the line then runs to the next pole, and another one or two, and eventually the line connects to the poles along the street at the end of our driveway. Those poles and their lines somewhere connect to towers, which connect to other stuff. Somewhere, there’s an electrical source, a telephone connection, light, and ot...

Below are a few of the things I’ve been pondering this August.   New glasses do make a difference in how and what I see, and that changes my outlook. So many things that I think of as metaphors are also literal.   Related: in an article about brain function by Max G. Levy in Wired , I read this astonishing sentence: “ Every thought that crosses your mind has, literally, crossed your mind, as millions of neurons in different parts of the brain chatter with one another. “ Literally. Here's a link to the article:  https://www.wired.com/story/this-is-your-brain-under-anesthesia/   It’s nice to be invited to participate in something professional. Related: It’s interesting (to me) to do a retrospective of my work in a particular form over the past seven or so years. I could see where external events influenced decisions (and I’m glad I made the choices I did), and I could also see where I began to push myself to develop skills I hadn’t had before.  ...

Some twenty-five years ago, I had a disagreement with a friend and former colleague, who had moved away to live and work--slightly too far to see frequently, but still close enough to intend to see at least regularly .  He and I communicated by email (near-instant contact in those heady days), and in a rare case of actually valuing a relationship enough to be forthright, I took the time to write a careful explanation of my perspective in the dispute.  In response (a few days later; how valuable that time!), he said, "I'm going to let your 'explanation' just lie there...." and changed the subject.  At the time, I was annoyed (by the quotation marks--"explanation," geez--and still irked from the original dispute). However, I let it go and allowed the change of subject. We never referred to the subject of disagreement again, and that was fine with me. Our friendship subsided--his life got busier, I moved, etc. We're still in sporadic touch, with apparen...

I like linear, predictable processes.  I'm not generally the kind of person who proclaims, "I'm the kind of person who" (because honestly, beware), but if I were, I'd say, "I'm the kind of person who likes linear, predictable processes, with a side of outlines and spreadsheets." And yet. I have come to see that my writing process doesn't necessarily work that way. I once scoffed at those who said, "you don't know what you think about something until you write it," but now I enjoy scoffing at my own preconceived notions. Because I often don't know what I mean until I write it, and sometimes not until I've revised that writing several times.  Not edited. Revised. Like re-envisioning.  I really don't have enough experience to comment knowledgeably about The Writing Process (although I still try), but here's a couple of things I've learned: a. mine usually isn't as linear as I'd like and b. I'm never sure...

So. Remember when I fell on the ice? And my wrists weren't hurt badly and were getting better ? Those were the days. During the ensuring eight or so weeks, my wrists have actually improved. I have gradually returned to reading, then editing and revising, a bit. Even some writing. I have also attended a LOT (a lot) of Zoom meetings. And here's what I saw during those meetings. The photo above shows the view through the upstairs window where we set up the laptop with the functioning camera.  Above: a closer shot to better show that thing out there. Yep. It's hanging at the end of rope, twisting in the breeze coming off Lake Superior (from left to right), and knocking gently against the exterior chimney (to the right).  And yep, a gust from the right/wrong direction could send it right into the window glass! Which probably would have been neither a hassle nor at all expensive to replace!  Throughout those past eight/nine/ten months years? week...

I forgot about a load of laundry--left it in the washing machine (ostensibly clean) overnight. Mid-morning, when I remembered it, the load stank in that sour way of wet things in an enclosed space. A problem to solve. Which I have. So far. (When I wear the t-shirts that were part of that load, I'll have a better idea of how effective my solution was.) In other news, one of my characters threatens to disappear into the ether of digital manuscript pages. He needs to be a little more charismatic. Even if only to himself. A problem to solve. Not something to despair over, no matter how real this person is (to me) and how thoroughly he lacks charisma. Taking a break for much of August , as much as I was able to, has turned out to be a good choice, especially after ten days in Saskatchewan working in-depth on this novel. Perspective, I believe it's called. I may wander away from social media even more as summer wanes and autumn arrives, the better to keep solving problems...

Recently a friend was posting a black-and-white photography challenge, and added my name to her challenge list. I don't always do challenges, but this one was fun and came at a good time. I'm moving a lot of projects ahead but in teeny tiny increments, and it can get frustrating. Looking for a good black-and-white photo on my near-daily walk forced me to take a moment. And here they are. Ahhhhhh.

My work has found a few new readers in the past six months, and I'm grateful for that. I enjoy sharing my thoughts and hearing others respond. Recently I've switched focus from sending work out. I'm spending more time at the page, scribbling, creating and revising and editing, and finishing commitments to others. It's so easy to focus on the product--the publication. "Where have you been published?" "My work has appeared in x, y, and z." It's how you connect with the outside world. But I'm ready to be back at the page. So I'm telling myself, "Enjoy the process." Recently, my husband and I were driving home from town at the time of the evening when a large, near-full moon was rising. Even though I knew better, I couldn't resist trying to get a picture of it. Here's what I got. Yup, not only TRYING TO TAKE A PHOTO FROM A MOVING CAR, but impeccable timing: behind the road sign. More impeccable timing: be...

The TL;DR version: A Twitter Fast creates a space for me to get stuff done. For the past two weekends, I've gone on a 60-hour Twitter Fast. From 9 PM Friday to 9 AM Monday, I stay off Twitter. Why 60 hours? Because the first time I tried it, I recognized Sunday evening that waiting till 9 AM Monday would give me an extra 12 hours, and that 60 hours sounds a lot longer and far more impressive than 48. Also, as the end of the 48 hours approached, I recognized that I didn't NEED to see tweets. In fact, NOT logging on would probably help me sleep better. That's turned out to be mostly true. Overall, detaching was easier than I expected. The first weekend, I had client work to do. The second weekend I also focused on a long-term project, this time for me. Both projects had looming deadlines. Besides big chunks of time, I found suddenly that I had smaller bits. I used them to do small things, like walk the long way around to pick up the newspaper, play the piano, and de...

I'm within one package and a few cards of having my holiday obligations taken care of, and I kind of don't know what to do with myself! I'm used to drowning in guilt for missing these family deadlines. Nobody likes guilt, right? How I've handled that in the past is declaring, "Our Christmas will be in January." Or telling myself "Better late than never!" But sometimes, receiving the right gift in the right way--under the tree, in the stack of gifts after you blow out birthday candles--magnifies the value of the gift. It's a big part of the fun. Plus, there's a satisfaction in meeting deadlines other than those imposed on me--deadlines I choose for myself. So imagine my surprise to learn that I actually miss the guilt from being behind. Similarly, I spent a good part of this past year pulling together a nonfiction manuscript that I've been working on for twenty years. TWENTY YEARS! Twenty. Years. Twenty. Years. I've recei...