QUAIL MUTTERINGS #55. Ode To Mirage (April 2019)

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #55. Ode to Mirage (April 2019)

I want to extend my deepest thanks to you, Mirage, for expanding your being into our hearts. And for profoundly touching so many souls on a multitude of levels, sometimes beyond our comprehension. And for being the best horse possible for Kali during those eventing years – voted “Best Couple” at the Pony Club awards ceremony. I loved watching you run across the meadows – free in the canyon, silvery tail lifted, neck arched gracefully… I could say so much more about you: how much I loved you, the good times and the bad, the way you’d come up to me – wherever I was – and bring me more present into the moment – you had an unerring gift for that. But for now, may this suffice.

Here’s to you, Mirage:

The shining light of the canyon
A compact form of compassion
Silver mane glittering in the sunshine
Radiating magic in the moonshine

An inquisitive nature
And persistent attention taker
Always an interest in interaction
Even over green grass’s attraction

Your flapping of lips
A comical twist
Adding character and wit
To your endearing spirit

The sly, sideways hint of a nose that’d been bit
By a serpent which lay in a pit
Gave an off-kilter profile
Most endearing after a while
To we who were drawn to your field

The greeter of guests
Nudging them in their chests
Touching our hearts
With yours – off the charts

Your full-bodied whinny
Still echoing your wild roots
One final call from your stable mate
And your answer – one last time

So full of life
While ours – not so rife
We’re left adrift now that you have moved on
But we’ll somehow continue
Even though we so miss you
And remember our light of the canyon.

 

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #48. A Caribbean Jaunt (December 2017)

 

 

 

 

A Caribbean Jaunt

Monkeys and lizards and frogs, Oh my!

The place is exotic and foreign and nice.

White sands, warm weather and beautiful seas

Don’t have to remain such an elusive tease.

Just a few thousand miles

But don’t get too riled.

You’ll make it to the alluring Caribbean.

 

Pirates and sailboats and snorkeling galore

Bring pleasure, excitement and dreams of more

Sunbathing and drinking incredible rum

Can leave one a bum

But only if succumbing to a snore.

 

So much to soak in

From those tropical rays

Where they follow you into the aqua marine.

 

Locals selling their handmade wares

Haggling prices is never that rare

And then you’ll be caught in their invisible snare.

 

Musical languages heard all around

From vendors to surfers to waiters then bound

To bounce together in a grand tide of sound.

 

Singing frogs serenade throughout the night

And continue long after you give up the fight

Chanting their chorus toward the Southern Cross.

 

 

An After Thought

Beautiful beaches,

Red reefs submerged in crystal clear waters,

Warm, easy breezes brushing over tropical islands

Dotted with Palm trees.

Friendly hellos and helpful advice

And breadfruit prepared into numerous delights.

What’s not to like?

About visiting a place so peaceful and welcoming?

 

Oh, and by the way –

Dorothy was right after all.

That there’s really no place like home.

There’s no place like home!

 

 

Chi Varnado’s memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com.

You can follow us on www.Facebook.com/gnomewoodcanyon

 

 

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #47. Writing: Navigating the Obstacles (September 2017)

I must admit that I’ve been negligent about writing Quail Mutterings lately. My excuse is the same as everyone else’s: no time. But the fact of the matter is we all have the same amount of time available to us in a day and, for the most part, we simply decide, either consciously or unconsciously, how to spend it. For me, besides following my usual “to-do” lists, I’ve chosen to work on my other writing for the time being.

After retiring from The Dance Centre over a year ago, I’ve begun writing a fictional series about a dance studio. Each novel will focus on a different story ballet and include the adventures of some of the dancers. There doesn’t seem to be much available, in this vein, for eight to fourteen-year-old ballet-obsessed girls. There are plenty of books for horse-crazy kids so why not for dancers? They’re just as rabid for stories about their passion and so, I figured, who better to tackle this project than me? Thirty-seven years of fodder ought to keep me going for quite a while, I should think.

Last spring, when I had the rough draft of the first few chapters done, I met with a group of young dancers at a local elementary school. Each followed along on their pages as I, or a former student of mine, read aloud. We had the best time. Some of them contributed ideas about things they would like to see included in the story or ways to make it more interesting. It was a win/win. I got tips from my target audience and they got “extra credit” for participating.

Since finishing the full rough draft of the manuscript I, once again, am attending writer’s groups and classes. Having my work read and critiqued is essential in this process. The endless details to address in the re-writing and editing phases, such as believability, character point of view and arc of plotting, are next to impossible to get right without other’s feedback.

So now, back to the quail for a moment. I can only afford brief visits to mental wanderings while entrenched in my chosen endeavor. There are literally hundreds of quail in the canyon these days. Yesterday morning, during my run, I accidentally flushed out dozens of them from the sumac bushes lining the trail. I panted my apologies and carried on. After cooling down I took a cold shower. Not by choice, just no hot water. I suppose I’ll have to turn away from the writing project again and attend to the demands of a no-longer-functioning water heater. Things were going so well! Why now?

This morning, after a short writing session, it was time for a break. I headed down to the kitchen for a drink of water. Before taking a sip I noticed a fairly large bird lying in the dirt outside. It reminded me of a Porwil, but it was late morning, so that wasn’t right. I guess it startled when I went outside and it took off. Through the leaves of the Red Berry bush I noticed movement on the other side. I held still and watched. It was a big, beautiful doe. While watching her walk toward the trail I looked around for the two fawns who usually come around with their mother. Perhaps this was a different doe. Anyway, she made my day.

Since I’ve committed to this writing project for now, I’m not going to lead any of the docent-led hikes out at Ramona Grasslands Old Survey Road this fall. I will, instead, take walks on my own when I feel the need to break up the writing concentration sessions. Power hikes, walking meditations, trail running… whatever it takes. Plus working, of course. That goes without saying. And then, after looking up the mountain at the wet boulder beneath our water tank, I hiked up there to play detective. Great. It’s just what I thought it was. Our water storage vessel has sprung a leak! The fun never stops. The writing goes on hold once again.

 

Chi Varnado’s memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com.

You can follow us on www.Facebook.com/gnomewoodcanyon