Poet, Playwright, Workshop Facilitator
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Welcome to daily nature photo and creative writing blog, #NewThisDay

Welcome to my daily nature photo blog

Writing from My Photo Stream ~ Kelly DuMar


#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

I am awake, early, out the door by 7 into the morning. A beautiful sky, a calm sea. I am walking happily, but nothing enchants me, particularly this morning, possibly because I’m talking most of the walk on my phone. Frank is away, but returning, and we are catching up, talking family news. I’m not paying very close attention, or I think I’m not, until, way out by Longboat Pass Bridge, I look down and see this plastic cowboy, gunslinger, gold rusher? Who knows. But he delights me, aiming his gun at some unseen enemy on the beach. Today, I am interviewed. A woman I met in the beginning of my trip, Lynne Bernfield, has an arts podcast. We had lunch recently and she asked to interview me for her podcast. So, today we met and she interviewed me, and it was a delight to answer her questions about my writing life, about the origin of my passion for writing. I talk about fourth grade, a class project we’re assigned, and we are, with a partner, to write a book. I get paired with Emily, who can draw wonderful mice. My part is telling the story in writing. I felt happier than I’d ever felt doing anything; to be creative, with writing, on paper. How satisfying. It was an awakening; a realization. I will be a writer. I showed my picture of my toy gunslinger to my daughter. We wonder what he’s holding in his hand. I think it’s a pan. I think he’s been panning for gold. Of course, this is exactly what a writing life is: like panning for gold.

. . . For once you’ve panned the speckled sand and seen the bonny dust,
Its peerless brightness blinds you like a spell;
It’s little else you care about; you go because you must,
And you feel that you could follow it to hell.
You’d follow it in hunger, and you’d follow it in cold;
You’d follow it in solitude and pain;
And when you’re stiff and battened down let someone whisper “Gold,”
You’re lief to rise and follow it again. . .
— Excerpt from "The Prospector," Robert W. Service, https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46648/the-prospector
Kelly DuMarComment