When ground squirrels ate up my garden last summer, I began filling two water containers. Since the squirrels continued eating squash leaves and other sprouts, I realized they weren’t eating for moisture alone.
However, the water containers did attract birds and so I continued. This fall after we stored the patio umbrella, I placed a third, larger container on the metal table overlooked by three large windows. Most birds stay away, preferring the more distant locations. All but the house finches.
On cold mornings the red-headed males and more sober females peck around the ice for melt waters. And on warmer days they even bathe.
House finches are brave—though no less wary than other species. I need to learn from the house finches.
“Well, you can always quit”
When growing up, I had a big sister to follow around, but eventually we went different directions. Ever since, I’ve been very conscious of how scared I am when beginning something new.
After years of staying home with my children, I needed psychotherapy to believe in my abilities and my more than ten-year-old MLS degree. When I finally got hired as a full-time librarian, almost immediately I hit a snag.
I had to make phone calls. Easy enough to talk to people directly, but I hate making cold calls.
I said to myself, “Well, you can always quit.”
But being a librarian was who I was. I picked up the telephone.
Sophie has fears too.
Sometimes Sophie refuses to go in the backyard for her bedtime “taking care of business” routine. It’s a mystery what disturbs her when there have been no firecrackers and fireworks. In my imagination, it’s a raccoon or other wild animal lurking. Too bad Sophie can’t explain.
But then, I can’t explain my own fears, so why should she? Last night I carried her to the far corner of the front yard and made sure she did her business on her way back to the door.
My writing life
Writing can be lonely, but a writer need not be. I attended conferences. I joined an organization and got active. I joined a critique group (now two groups).
I wrote. I rewrote. I revised.
After countless revisions, I moved on to my next inspiration while sending out queries. And nothing happened.
Finally, the day came when writing lost its appeal. I got up in the morning with no anticipation for the day’s work. My life turned colorless, gray.
The thought came again: Well, you can always quit.
Quit writing? But writing is who I am.
To be continued
Kate Harrington 