The invasion began when I turned the calendar to ‘October.’ Orange lights appeared along the eaves of the house across the road, followed by a gigantic glow-in-the-dark purple spider. Down the street, zombies began clawing their way from the depths of a front lawn. Another home has become the nightly haunting of a huge, ephemeral floating phantom lady, her robes flapping in the breeze as she collects falling red leaves in her tangled hair. The entire neighborhood is overrun with skeletons, dried cornstalk sheaves, and glowing orange jack-o’-lanterns.

Then there are the witches. In the cul-de-sac, three shadowy sisters stir a bubbling brew in an ebony caldron. Next door to the zombies, there was an accident. A novice crash-landed into the doorway, her pointy shoes, green and black stockings, and broken broom create a gapers block. An old crone terrorizes the corner, harassing the white ghost girl.

Their stories run amok, and I chase them, trying to record as much detail as possible, preserving the magic in my notebook which is bursting at the seams. There is a natural urge to pack, store, and prepare for the long winter’s nights. When the snow flies and the winds howl, I will sit next to my fire and write.

What is your favorite aspect of Halloween?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Ideas are as numerous as raindrops on a wild stormy night. Capturing a decent concept is as elusive as catching lightning in a bottle. Creativity on demand is challenging. Commit to completing your first draft, they say. Count your words, keep pen to the page until you reach your goal. Rinse and repeat day, after day, after day. It is easy. Right?

It might be if stringing random words together constituted excellent writing if compelling plots lines materialized from thin air and interesting characters knocked on your door. We are human, not magicians, so we seek inspiration everywhere. When the lightning strikes, we hold it tight and write late into the night.

When do your ideas flow?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The chilly Sunday dawn dances with a magical quality. Bright red cardinals compete for fat sunflower seeds. Red-winged blackbirds, chickadees, goldfinches, and a downy woodpecker flit between the feeder and the evergreens. Squirrels chase each other through the yard, fighting over every titbit, they remain oblivious to the hawk floating in lazy circles in the crystal blue sky. It may not be Walden, but it is my slice of nature carved from a suburban landscape.

A frosty mist clings to the ground, laying heavy on autumn air, as the weakening sun promises to hold off the rain and warm the day. The fresh morning brims with pledges of freezing rain, a snowy winter, and long nights in front of the fire. A deep breath, a hot cup of coffee, and a soft breeze erases worry and clears the mind. At last, the ideas flow.

How do you spend your Sunday mornings?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The mailman delivered a package this afternoon. I have been both dreading and looking forward to its arrival. Tucked inside is the promise of beauty. Three years ago, I planted 300 tulip bulbs in my front garden bed and waited for spring.  They rewarded me with a spectacular show that took my breath away and garnered the neighbor’s comments.

There are tricks to growing tulips in my zone, as they don’t naturalize easily. Those methods require enjoying the flowers, letting the foliage dieback, and then lifting the bulbs from the ground. You must wash, dry and store any undamaged bulbs in a cool, low humidity environment until it is time to plant them again in the fall. The process helps to ensure the bulb’s health and encourages vigorous spring flowering.

I follow a different course. I elect to not lift and replant them but let them remain in situ. The result is fewer annual blooms. This year, a sprinkling of tulips raised their heads, but the showing was unacceptable. I will dig 300 six-inch-deep holes, sprinkle in a bit of fertilizer, add the bulb, tamp it in and move to the next. It is backbreaking toil that won’t produce results until late April.

What are you planting today?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer