Moving, Nature, Personal Life

Musings on Place (Mine) and Its Effects on My Writing (among other things)

The astute among you will have noticed, perhaps, that I’ve moved. Ohio to NJ isn’t the longest move in the world, but it is enough to be obviously different. I was wondering, before I left Ohio, how the “new place” would affect my writing, seeing as how where and how I live influence me so greatly. Here’s my initial report (I see you nodding off in the corner, there. Don’t worry, there will be no PowerPoint presentation, no dull — I hope — discourse on life, the universe and my cosmic place. Yet.)

Across the street from my apartment is a cemetery, founded in 1800, where I often walk. The oldest tombstones are fallen over and their engravings weathered away to near-invisibility, but the ones I can still read give date of death as around 1805, with the age noted as “67 years and 3 mo.” The sign in the center lists the veterans, by war, with the first war listed being the War of 1812. It’s a pretty cool place to walk. When I do, I often wonder about the lives of those interred there, and those they left behind. It’s led to my thinking, a whole lot, about death, mortality, and what we leave behind. About societal conventions in marriage, re-marriage, children, and burial practices, and how they change, or don’t. Which leads to some strange thoughts connecting in my brain.

I don’t want to say these are the only thoughts I have, here. They’re not, but they are pretty central to the ideas skittering around in my brain (as they try to evade being written about). It’s not what I thought NJ would bring to my writing, not by a long shot. But I must say, I’m not unhappy with it. Not one little bit!

So, just to prove I’m not entirely whack-o, here are some other, more normal, things about NJ:

bberryBlueberries! They grow wild here. I am very impatiently waiting for them to ripen, so I can eat some!

Along with blueberries comes acidic soil. Sandy, acidic soil. The ferns love it along the shady river bottoms. I love ferns. Look at the different kinds sprouting along the river below the cemetery (taken earlier in the year):

fern fern2 fern3

What do I miss? That’s pretty easy. Snakes! I haven’t seen one since I’ve been here. That makes me a bit sad, since I used to see them quite a lot before the move. They kind of made me feel at home. Which takes us right back to how strange I must be. *sigh* Well, enough then. Time to get back to writing.

And, Happy Father’s Day.