WORDS TO LIVE BY: Preface from Walt Whitman's "Leaves of Grass"

"This is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body."

~ "This is what you shall do..." by Walt Whitman, from the preface of Leaves of Grass. Public domain.

Photo by Quincy Benton for Friday Jones Publishing

Julian of Norwich's Hometown Reads As Literary Utopia

"All shall be well and all shall be well

and all manner of things

shall be well."

-- Julian of Norwich

The above quote has been my trusting in troubled times mantra for the last few years. The optimism appeals to me, as does the simplicity and repetition of Julian's statement. A mystic, Julian of Norwich wrote "Revelations of Divine Love," started in 1373 and frequently cited as the first English-language book published by a woman. Julian, despite her claims of being "unlettered," was one of the first bluestockings.

Julian of Norwich, pictured with a cat, in this icon.

In the Travel section of today's New York Times, Rachel B. Doyle reported on the literary tradition alive and well in Julian's hometown of Norwich: "Where Writers, and Readers, Feel at Home."

A medieval town located two hours from London, 31 medieval churches still stand. Many now serve as houses of word worshippers, settings for readings, salons, and writing classes, Doyle reported. The reporter also revealed that Julian, , an anchoress (religious hermit) "was likely bricked up inside a small stone cell during her 40-odd-years of monastic life."

The contemporary writer demonstrates a sense of humor about the ancient writer. "Julian's manuscript survived for almost three centuries in the care of nuns before it was finally published in 1670. Compared with what Julian of Norwich experienced, the long waits of modern writers trying to find a publisher can seem almost reasonable."

Other high points of Doyle's feature:

• Last year, 1.5 million visitors dropped by the Norfolk and Norwich Millennium Library.

• Across the street from the modern library, in a medieval church, the 17th-century writer/physician Sir Thomas Browne is buried.

• "An artist inscribed the entire text of Sir Thomas More's "Utopia"--written in 1516--on an old brick building.

Sounds like a town where people know how to wag their tales. I want to go!

COLLEEN SMITH’s debut novel Glass Halo, set in Denver, was a finalist for the Santa Fe Literary Prize and was praised in the latest issue of The Bloomsbury Review. The novel is available online and through your favorite bookstore.

To learn more, visit FridayJonesPublishing.com and GlassHaloNovel.com, become a friend on Facebook, or follow FridayPublisher on Twitter.

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Fare Thee Well, Tom Walker, The Denver Post Books Editor: A tribute & hub page of my Post books pieces

I just got the sad news that today is the last day in the newsroom for Tom Walker, my Books editor at The Denver Post for many years.

Tom Walker was a prince of an editor. Fare thee well, Tom.

Originally from Louisiana, Tom plied his journalistic trade at The Denver Post for decades. A consummate professional, he had an office lined with bookshelves, and his job was to read. And, of course, to report on reading and books. As an editor, he had a light hand and never made many changes to my copy, but caught my mistakes and corrected them.

The Denver Post recently changed the Books format, reducing the pages from four to two, with additional Books coverage folded into A&E pages. I'll miss Tom's Books section, but moreover his professional presence--even though we mostly communicated via e-mail messages.

Fare thee well, Tom! Good luck with your golf game. And thank you for all the stories we collaborated on over recent years. You were a prince of an editor!

Here's a partial list of stories I published in The Denver Post Books section under the editorship of Tom Walker:

Elizabeth Gilbert, author of "Eat, Pray, Love"

Garrison Keillor: "Red-footed humorist"

Jamaica Kincaid on her gardens

"David Whyte's nonprosaic world"

Temple Grandin's on her book "Animals Make Us Human"

"Publisher! Publisher!" (The backstory of founding Friday Jones Publishing)

Nick Bantock, author of Griffin & Sabine series

"The art of books unbound" ("Architexture" exhibit at Museum of Outdoor Arts)

"Authors go it alone in new literary landscape"

Denver Botanic Gardens' library

Denver Public Library special collections

"A passion that speaks volumes" (Antique & collectible books)

Bloomsbury Review's 30th anniversary

I'm sure I'll find more stories on which Tom and I collaborated as editor and writer; and I'll add them as I find them.

I miss you already, Tom.

THE WRITTEN WORD: Raymond Carver & Barry Hannah

Yesterday's New York Times Book Review--the holiday edition--weighed in at a splendid 68 pages. Near the back of the book, on "Paperback Row," a brief item noted that "Raymond Carver: A Writer's Life" now is available in paperback.

Also yesterday, in The Denver Post, William Porter's piece about Barry Hannah caught my eye. Titled, "A rogue's gallery of the south," Porter's story reviewed "Long, Last, Happy, New, and Selected Stories."

Both writers struggled with alcoholism. Both writers reportedly struggled with their relationships with women.

And both writers were on the Iowa Writers' Workshop scene--still drinkers, then--when I was a student at the University of Iowa.

I remember Raymond Carver reading his story "Feathers"--a hilarious yet sad story typical of his ouvre.

Stephen King originally reviewed the Carver bio for the Book Review and dubbed the book "meticulous and heartbreaking" and "a welcome and necessary corrective." The Book Review went on to include the biography by Carol Sklenicka in their list of the 10 Best Books of 2009.

For regular posts on books--and also dogs, art, gardens and more--join us on Friday Jones Publishing's Facebook page.

Wag your tale.

Colleen Smith’s debut novel Glass Halo, set in Denver, was a finalist for the Santa Fe Literary Prize and was praised in the latest issue of The Bloomsbury Review. The novel is available online and through your favorite bookstore.

To learn more, visit FridayJonesPublishing.com and GlassHaloNovel.com, become a friend on Facebook, or follow FridayPublisher on Twitter.

Nora Ephron: She Remembers Everything

As a freshman English major, we read Nora Ephron. I can't remember exactly what we read, but our English 101 professor obviously thought enough of her work to include her in his canon.

Now age 69--tho' she hardly looks it--Ephron is in the news again with yet another book: "I Remember Nothing," a memoir released this month. On the heels of "I Feel Bad About My Neck" And Other Thoughts on Being a Woman," this writer and film director dominated The New York Times this weekend with an interesting interview in the magazine section AND a nice page-and-a-half piece complete with 4-color portrait in the Book Review.

Even if you don't know Ephron's books, you probably know her movies.

In addition to her books and essays, Ephron, in case you didn't know, brought us these romantic comedy confections: "When Harry Met Sally" and "Heartburn," "You've Got Mail," "Sleepless in Seattle" and "Julie and Julia."

Some writerly fine points from the pieces:

From "Domains: On Location" by Edward Lewine:

• Nora Ephron uses "Freedom" on her computer so she can write without Internet distraction.

• She not only writes, she reads: "I read four or five books a year I wish I had written," she said.

• She reads the newspapers in bed. Breakfasts. "Then at some point I actually sit down to write."

• Her parents, Phoebe and Henry Ephron, were writers.

From "The Oft-Examined Life" by Alex Kuczynski:

• She has been nominated for three Oscars.

• "She's like Benjamin Franklin or Shakespeare: her words are now part of the fabric of the English language. Whenever we talk about 'white man's overbite'...we're quoting her."

• "...Ephron is the poster girl for the religion of When Life Gives You Lemons, Make Lemonade."

And Ephron's evidently still got the juice.

Colleen Smith’s debut novel Glass Halo, set in Denver, was a finalist for the Santa Fe Literary Prize and was praised in the latest issue of The Bloomsbury Review. The novel is available online and through your favorite bookstore.

To learn more, visit FridayJonesPublishing.com and GlassHaloNovel.com, become a friend on Facebook, or follow FridayPublisher on Twitter.

THE WRITTEN WORD: Inspiration from the Arts & Crafts Movement

I've been researching the Arts & Crafts Movement, finding inspiration in this artistic era on a number of levels. During the Arts & Crafts Movement, book design reached a pinnacle. Most notably, William Morris and Kelmscott Press in England, and the Roycrofters in East Aurora, New York, created gold-standard books. Beautiful typography, intricate illustrations, printers ornaments, lavish borders, and handsome bindings typify the books.

In their rare books collection, Denver Public Library has a number of these precious works. In the photo above, the spread shows a portrait of William Morris at left and an elaborate page at right. A thin tissue separates the pages.

(F.Y.I: Normally, the books may not be photographed, but DPL made an exception for my iPhone: Thanks, DPL!)

People in the Arts & Crafts Era responded to the Industrial Revolution; and I am responding to the Digital Age. The Industrial Revolution put a lot of people to work in factories and put and end to a lot of handcrafting. The Digital Age--along with its many advantages--poses some threats to books and writing. I believe we must preserve an interest in the written word and in tactile books.

The design of my soon-to-be-published first novel, titled GLASS HALO, shows a strong influence from the Arts & Crafts Movement.

My Friday Jones Publishing website includes a list of links related to the Arts & Crafts Movement. I hope you'll enjoy browsing some of these sites.

Thanks for clicking in!

THE WRITTEN WORD: Full Circle Drawn with The Bloomsbury Review

THE BACK STORY:

When I first moved to Denver in 1985, I quickly discovered The Bloomsbury Review because I hung out a lot at a branch of the Denver Public Library, where I found free copies of this books magazine. I was young, financially challenged--as we say in today's politically correct parlance--and eager to become a writer. I had graduated with an English degree and honors from the University of Iowa Writer's Workshop. I had little experience, but a lot of interest in books; and when I saw that Blooms headquartered in Denver, I made a phone call.

The phone call turned into a long and thoughtful conversation with Tom Auer and ended with a warm invitation to come down to The Bloomsbury Review's office to pick out some books to review. Walking on air, I did just that, braving my way downtown to find Tom in an office cluttered with rows and stacks and shelves and piles of books. I picked out some books on nature, as I remember. I seem to remember a woman coming part way down a staircase, and Tom introducing her as his sister Marilyn.

I did not get paid for my reviews. I did not care. I was thrilled for the opportunity and the byline and the inclusion of my words in the magazine. I don't remember how many pieces I wrote for Blooms before I went on to other writing gigs, then full time jobs in the so-called real world. I eventually lost track of Blooms for many years.

All that changed recently when while working on an assignment for Tom Walker, the books editor of The Denver Post. Tom had given me contact information for a Boulder author to interview, but then called me off the source since somebody else had already done a recent story on him. When that source fell through, I wasn't sure where to turn. I decided to call The Bloomsbury Review to see if they had an leads.

Marilyn Auer answered, and we had a long chat about authors who might make good sources. I mentioned that I had written for Blooms way back. She mentioned that Tom had died. I had not known, or if I had heard, I had stuffed away the sad news.

"But you're holding down the fort?" I asked Marilyn.

And she answered, "I'm working on our 30th anniversary issue."

PING! My freelance journalist light went on, knowing Blooms' big anniversary would make a great story for the books section of The Denver Post.

THE GOOD NEWS:

I'm delighted to report that in the wake of my story about Blooms in the Post, the 30-year-old magazine on books got 55 new subscribers to the magazine--some for several-year subscriptions--and also gained 70-some new fans on Facebook, all in just the first few days after my piece appeared in the Post.

Chalk one up for books, magazines, newspapers, and freelance journalists--all evidently still relevant in the digital age.

Here's a link to my Post piece on The Bloomsbury Review, with some great quotes about books from Marilyn Auer and Blooms' marketing director David Perkins.

THE WRITTEN WORD/WRITERS I'VE KNOWN: Happy Birthday, Tama J. Kieves!

Today I celebrate the birthday of one of my dearest friends and closest literary companions: Tama J. Kieves. Tama and I both arrived in Denver in June of 1985, though she came from Brooklyn, NY; and I came from Iowa.

Tama and I met about four years later through a third writer, Kay Porterfield. I was taking a fiction writing course through one of the university campuses in downtown Denver, and Kay was my instructor. Kay recognized my writing, knew Tama, and recognized that Tama and I had a lot in common. She suggested we meet. Funny thing, I was so intimidated by Tama because Kay told me Tama is a graduate of Harvard Law School. Eventually, Tama told me she was cowed because I was out of the Iowa Writer's Workshop. Eventually, we did meet when Kay convened a writer's group. Tama and I connected. I appreciated--and continue to appreciate--Tama's smarts and humor and beauty on so many levels, her authenticity and her writing.

The writer's group disbanded, but Tama and I remained friends, cultivated our friendship; and shared countless fits of hilarity, as well as streams of salted tears. Tama and I used to schedule what we called "9 to 9" writing days. Tama would show up at 9 on a Friday morning with bagels and cream cheese. I'd brew the coffee. We'd breakfast, write, talk, write, break for lunch at a nearby Chinese restaurant, write some more, walk my dogs, and talk about our books, our lives, write some more, winding down at 9 p.m. This was years ago. We're both still writing.

Tama has led the charge first by self-publishing her book, then getting signed by a major New York publisher, then garnering accolades for her book and going on to use her book as a springboard to other ways to have a voice in the larger debate, a place at the self-help table, and oodles of disciples like myself who have heard her Harvard lawyer wisdom delivered in lines closer to poetry. Tama is fearless: She speaks to huge audiences, at prestigious retreat centers, goes on television, does radio interviews. She has 15,000 names on her electronic mailing list, and pods of people in cities throughout the U.S. She's even branching out internationally, having done appearances in Mexico, Canada, and Costa Rica.

I consider myself one of Tama's success stories because in addition to writing, Tama works as a career counselor, coach, and speaker. After practicing law for about a year, Tama fled her downtown Denver firm to follow her heart. She inspires others to do the same. She inspired me, and continues to inspire me, with her message of love over fear.

If you're considering a career change--and even if you're not, but you just like a sweet but solid voice of wisdom in the world, check out Tama's website. You'll find all her upcoming speaking engagements, her book THIS TIME I DANCE! Creating the Work You Love, audio recordings, destination vacations, and free resources. Definitely check out her free e-newsletter as it’s filled with monthly support and creative inspiration, and you can sign-up online.

CLICK NOW ON LINKS BELOW FOR MORE:

• Tama Kieves' Awakening Artistry website

• Bluestocking Guest Blog Tama contributed titled "Mothering Ourselves"

• Tama Kieves endorses GLASS HALO, the soon-to-be-released first novel by Colleen Smith

• Tama Kieves quoted in The Denver Post's article about authors conducting their own publicity

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TAMA: Enjoy the fruit!

THE WRITTEN WORD: Friday Jones Publishing urges you to "Wag Your Tale."

My most current entrepreneurial endeavor is Friday Jones Publishing, an artisan press with a creative and collaborative synergy. Plans call for the first book--a literary novel titled GLASS HALO--to be released around St. Patrick's Day, in homage to my storytelling Irish ancestors.

Please visit our new Friday Jones Publishing webpage, where you'll find out more about us and the nature of our Arts & Crafts cottage industry. Check out the blog, where we encourage you to join the conversation with your comments.

Friday Jones has a Facebook page, too. Consider joining us as a fan.

"Wag Your Tale."

THE ARTS: Meet My Auntie Artist

Meet my great-aunt Mary: an artist, a woman well ahead of her times, and one of my mentors. Mary was a fine artist, and she published a little chapbook of poetry that made a huge impression upon me when I was a girl. Learn more about her on the Friday Jones Publishing webpage.

THE WRITTEN WORD: "One of the few havens remaining"

Old books hold court in the old built-in bookcases in my old Craftsman bungalow. My grandmother gave me many of these beautiful volumes, but that handsome burgundy copy of "English Romantic Writers" is one of my favorites from my years as an English major at Iowa State University and University of Iowa. I still love the British Romantics.

Photo by Quincy Benton

“BOOKS: A book is the only place in which you can examine a fragile thought without breaking it, or explore an explosive idea without fear it will go off in your face. It is one of the few sources of information left that is served up without the silent black noise of a headline, the doomy hullabaloo of a commercial. It is one of the few havens remaining where a man’s mind can get both provocation and privacy.”

-- Edward P. Morgan

THE WRITTEN WORD: Garrison Keillor on the Poet Sharon Olds

Photo by Quincy Benton

Some of last summer's secret garden blooms.

"I was a late bloomer.

But anyone who blooms at all, ever, is very lucky."

-- Sharon Olds

A literary and political friend forwarded to me Garrison Keillor’s A Writer’s Almanac today as “an antidote to Sarah Palin," but whatever your political persuasions, you’ll like Keillor’s keenly appreciative piece about the poet Sharon Olds. Her poems have appeared in 100-plus poetry anthologies. Just click here now. And if you like, sign up for a free subscription to A Writer's Almanac.

To read "Red-footed Humorist," my Q.&.A. with Garrison Keillor, published in The Denver Post, just click here now.

"From the serene heights of art": Thomas Mann on Truth, Reason, Freedom

Shot this photo recently at New Orleans Botanical Gardens.

“Truth and reason

may appear to be crushed

but in our hearts

they remain eternally free,

and from the serene heights of art

the intellect may laugh at the triumph of folly…

Secure in the bond relating it

to all that is best on earth.”

-- Thomas Mann

From DIESER FRIEDE, (THIS PEACE) published in 1938

Mann won the Novel Prize in Literature in 1929.

THE WRITTEN WORD: To Sanctifiy Your Sunday--Or Any Day

Happened upon this beautiful passage today. I post this to sanctify your Sunday. Or any day.

"Dear one, you are growing up. You are beginning to sense and appreciate the coming changes. The ground-swell is beginning to sweep the planet. Fresh winds are blowing, untruths and injustices are being brought to trial. The world court, in its very infancy, is beginning to meet out justice. It is coming, it is coming.

Continue your earnest and sincere prayers for those mortals in ‘charge’ of grave decision making, which will affect humanity with far-reaching consequences.

The cry of the human soul is always heard. Pray without ceasing for the downtrodden, the downcast, the trampled upon and the mighty greedy ones. Each and every soul is in need of upliftment. The most powerful hungry-for-money humans have the neediest souls.

Continue to pray for God’s Light so to shine, so that even those who sit in spiritual darkness may begin to sense the Light living within them. You are a part of an invisible peace corps, an army dedicated to do the will of God. Join all the other souls in prayers for peace, for love, for light, for balance, for harmony.

These are all waiting to be manifested in the unified energy-force field. Focus your desire upon all these things. Energy follows desire, and desire fosters the intent to create.

Thoughtless form prayers do not leave the building in which they are said, and many prayers remain unanswered, because they never reach heaven.

Desire your prayers to be answered with all your heart, soul and mind.

Be there in your prayers. Grow in faith, and grow in spiritual strength, for it is the Father’s Gift, Who guides you in all things. Seek your Gift in the Stillness of your heart."

Hmmmm.
Thoughts or reactions, anyone?
Peace be with you!

THE WRITTEN WORD: Thoreau on Imagination

“The world is but a canvas to the imagination.”

—Henry David Thoreau

(1817-1862); philosopher, writer, naturalist

THE WRITTEN WORD: It can be done

“The world is moving so fast these days
that the man who says it can't be done
is generally interrupted by someone doing it.”
Elbert Hubbard (1856-1915), philosopher, author, publisher

And just in case you think this fast-paced world is new,
check out the date of this author's death.

THE WRITTEN (and spoken) WORD: Get Well Soon, Garrison Keillor!

Garrison Keillor, 67, is recovering in a Rochester, Minnesota, hospital after suffering a minor stroke. Was it all that deep-fried food at the state fairs?
Reports indicate that the humorist is up and working at his laptop, thankfully. A national treasure, Keillor's radio program "A Prairie Home Companion" includes political satire, spoof, music and entertaining sound effects. It's a hoot and also oftentimes touching and thoughtful. If you've never heard PHC, tune it in on your local public radio station. It usually airs on Saturday evenings and Sunday mornings. I'm sure he'll have something to say about this stroke. And I'm sure his audience will welcome him back to the stage with an especially warm reception.

When Keillor's book "Pontoon" was released, I had the opportunity to interview him for The Denver Post. We conducted the interview over the Internet. I submitted questions. He sent me answers within a couple of hours. I never changed a word. Didn't have to. (This is a great interview technique for shy people, but of course, would only work with a top-shelf writer.) Here's a link to the story titled "Red-footed humorist."

THE WRITTEN WORD: Annie Dillard from "Holy the Firm

I had the great good fortune of interviewing Annie Dillard--one of my literary heroes--circa 1994. If you do not know her work, I cannot recommend her strongly enough to you. Try "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek," for which she won the Pulitzer Prize in nonfiction (at the tender age of 29, I think she was.)

Photo by Quincy Benton

Over the years, I've returned to this passage again and again--succor for the uphill road.


From HOLY THE FIRM
by Annie Dillard

“Who shall ascend the hill of the Lord? or who shall stand in his holy place? There is no one but us. There is no one to send, nor a clean hand, nor a pure heart on the face of the earth, nor in the earth, but only us, a generation comforting ourselves with the notion that we have come at an awkward time, that our innocent fathers are all dead--as if innocence had ever been--and our children busy and troubled, and we ourselves unfit, not yet ready, having each of us chosen wrongly, made a false start, failed, yielded to impulse and the tangled comfort of pleasures, and grown exhausted, unable to seek the thread, weak, and involved. But there is no one but us. There never has been. There have been generations which remembered and generations which forgot; there has never been a generation of whole men and women who lived well for even one day. Yet some have imagined well, with honesty and art, the detail of such a life, and have described it with such grace, that we mistake vision for history, dream for description, and fancy that life has devolved. So. You learn this studying any history at all, especially the lives of artists and visionaries; you learn it from Emerson, who noticed that the meanness of our days is itself worth our thought; and you learn it, fitful in your pew, in church.”

IN MEMORIAM: Deborah Digges, the tragic passing of a poet, a classmate

Just walked home from Bikram class, and while noticing the slowing of crickets’ chirps and the earlier setting of the sun, felt some melancholy over the end of summer and a birthday around the corner--the last of my 40s.

At home, I settled in with my new New Yorker, which had arrived earlier today, the 24 August issue. From time to time, I know a writer whose work is publishing in the prestigious magazine.

I noticed Deborah Digges' name in the table of contents. I went immediately to her poem. Deborah and I were in a class together at the University of Iowa’s Writer’s Workshop in 1983. The professor had invited me to join the class, a graduate poetry class, though I was still an undergraduate. I was young, shy, awestruck and intimidated by the talent of the other poets in the class.

Glittering shadows

Especially Deborah. There were only a few women in the class of about a dozen poets. I picture her as a petite, pretty, brunette woman with apple cheeks and a bright smile. I picture her wearing white blouses and blue jeans and black boots. She could write like an angel. Even her comments in class, I remember, were like poetry. One day, I remember, she was talking about a post-modern poem and she said, “Even the shadows glitter.” That line stuck in my head all these years. At the time she was involved with the poet Stanley Plumley--a handsome, bearded, swaggering rogue poet teaching in the Writer’s Workshop. I admired them. Deborah and I were never friends--just acquaintances. Classmates.

I’d seen Deborah’s byline in the New Yorker before, and I’d read her prose in other magazines, as well. I always felt a twinge of writer’s envy, yes, but also a surge of pride in having known her. I was pleased for her to be enjoying the honor of seeing her work in what I consider the most best-written magazine in our nation. I knew in the Workshop that she was great, but I had not really followed her career.

Gleaming laurels

But to have poems published in The New Yorker? I knew she'd reached someplace lofty. I'm not a poetry expert, but I understood the gleam of that laurel. To make it in our day as a poet is almost impossible. To make it as a woman poet? You do the math.

As I read Deborah’s freshly published poem, titled “The Wind Blows Through the Doors of My Heart,” I pictured her as I knew her. If Deborah had been a songbird, perhaps a swallow. In fact, the title of her first book of poetry was "Vesper Swallows." Holding The New Yorker at my ready-for-bifocals distance, I read and heard her voice. The lines of the luminous yet troubled poem drew me in, mesmerized me. “How does she do it?” I asked myself, working through the poem to the last lines, disturbing.

And then, even more disturbing, I saw below her name in parentheses (1950-2009).

Deborah died? I had not heard. I turned to the contributors' page that carries a brief biography of the writers and saw that Deborah had passed over in April. She was only ten years older than I. Breast cancer? I wondered. Ovarian cancer?

But when I Googled her name, I learned that she was a suicide. Evidently, she had jumped from the top tier of a stadium.

She jumped?

The whys are unbearable.

I like to think of her spirit ascending, even as her body fell.

The obituaries revealed that Deborah had published four books of poetry, two memoirs, landed impressive grants, won coveted prizes. I learned that she and Stanley had married and divorced. That her maiden name was Sugarbaker, and that she was raised on an apple orchard in Missouri, one of 10 children. That she loved animals, volunteered at a shelter. That she also traveled with some frequency to Africa to volunteer, helping children there. That a forthcoming book of poems, "Dance of the Seven Veils" was scheduled to be published this fall, and that she also was writing a historical novel.

Even her shadows glittered.

Here is a link to Deborah Digges’ obituary in The New York Times. And a list on Amazon of books she's written.

On his website, Edward Byrne, an English professor at Valparaiso University and editor of Valparaiso Poetry Review, posted three lines from Digges's poem "Broom."

"Once I asked myself, when was I happy?
I was looking at a February sky.
When did the light hold me and I didn't struggle?"

And here's a link to yesterday morning's Denver Flower and Gardening entry on writers in the garden, posted about seven hours before I'd learned of Deborah's decision. The entry even includes a poem and encourages readers to read it aloud.
I trust Deborah, who at the time of her death was teaching classes on creative writing and "The Architecture of the Imagination" at Tufts, would approve.

I wonder whether Deborah had a garden. I wonder when last she'd stared at the ocean.