I don’t think Annie Dillard was alone on Tinker Mountain. And not just the tom cat that came and went. But I picture her as being bigger, too, to match that feisty, muscular writing.

Years ago, I used to go see all the writers and artist I admired, if they were speaking or autographing. I was almost always disappointed (bringing my own expectations, I would be). Finally I’ve decided to leave my last favorite writer alone (Lee Smith). I could have seen her a few times, but have decided not to. I’m sure she’s wonderful in person, inspiring, I’ve heard, but I want to keep her work close and the real person at a distance.

P.S.: I’m at Hollins every summer and I have never explored Tinker Creek! Carvin Creek runs through the campus. I figure that’s Annie Dillard-ish enough.

You are lucky you have those girls to bring you things. You get to revisit the wonder of nature you had as a child through them–not as much work as when you are 62 years old!
What’s that expression? Housework will wait but not children. Something like that.

My first year of college, I met Annie Dillard after , you know, worshipping at the edge of Tinker Creek. I just couldn’t believe it. She was tiny. I mean TINY. And I am an Amazon. She wore a cream colored suit with a frilly pink blouse. It seriously messed with me. This was the woman who wrote about ferocious wildness?! I treasure this now. It was so awesome that she didn’t look like, say a combination of Thoreau and Paul Bunyan — which is what my script for her dictated.

We are all who we are, and that is a wonderful thing.

If it is fun I always make the time for it. I really don’t mind if vacuuming and the dishes wait. It is something that can be easily done. The girls, particularly Keira, manages to often come home with leaves and flowers she finds in her travels.

Good point! 🙂

Hang around with me long enough, and you’ll notice more! It’s really a matter of looking down and looking up, not straight ahead all the time. (Which is why I’m always stumbling).

I know, I love MacFarlane’s (from the UK) admonition to learn something so well it becomes either strange or familiar, but fabulous either way.

In your spare time I think you should start a book like that. Maybe have your girls help gather things. (I’m joking about the spare time, but not about having your children get their hands in nature). A crowquill or any cheap dip pen will suit.

Last summer I made you look at a tiny little orchard spider, no bigger than my little fingernail. She was so lovely, all blue and orange and green, in her hammock-y web. And you lived!

And now you know what spiders think of *you*! Get geared up for next summer, my dear. Who knows what I’ll drag us into. After all, you dragged me into La De Da!