I’m Moving to Substack!

House being moved from Colton and N. Boylston Sts. for Construction of Hollywood Freeway, Calif., 1948
Publication: Los Angeles Times August 20, 1948
Image sourced from Wikimedia Commons.

Hi Everyone!

It has been a VERY long time.
What can I say? Life kept throwing curveball after curveball after curveball!
Oh, you’ve been there too?

I won’t list the curveballs that began even before the pandemic. Let’s just say they eventually led to a major transformation in my life, a transformation that came about through one action: healing childhood trauma.

The Metamorphosis

After the stress and upheaval of 2020 I found myself in the worst place of my adult life. It was time to make big changes. I opened my heart to possibility and discovered the most amazing and transformative online class by Lisa A. Romano. I started in January 2021, and entered into what I now see as “the chrysalis stage.” Before, I was an always-reactive, always-struggling, mostly unaware, and, in fact, juvenile caterpillar-person, going along, doing the same things day after day, year after year, decade after decade. The dream of wings was within me, but I could never find activation

Since that 12-week course ended a year ago this month, I have continued to grow and to change and to make realizations.

Many of those realizations have been painful, but I face them, I shed the tears, and I learn the lessons.

(Because if you don’t learn the lessons, you will repeat them; that, my friends, is guaranteed!)

And now, finally, I am beginning to emerge from the chrysalis, at age 60, into a new life.

(I have made the joke that my new name is “Old Butterfly.”)

For the first time since childhood I truly love and accept myself. And I am feeling the truth: I DO HAVE WINGS.

I have gained clarity on everything. WHY I kept repeating the problems in my life, WHY I felt stuck.

Along with this transformation came a big realization. It was time to honor my heart.

This included making a commitment to honor a lifelong dream to do three simple things: 1) live in the country; 2) grow my own food; and 3) write.

The place I’m heading to soon (for now) is Western North Carolina, to the rural life I have dreamed of, literally, since age 30. Last summer I found a journal from my 30th year, my first year as a new mother. In the journal entry I wrote about the world around me, how I did not like where I was living. I wrote down exactly what I wanted (see 1-3 above!)—and then, as caterpillars do, I forgot. I went back to being a caterpillar. Huh. Is that why the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland smokes a hookah?

Alice in Wonderland by Arthur Rackham. 1907. Wikimedia Commons.
“The Caterpillar’s crucial first words, ‘Who are you?’ induce Alice to begin the processes of reclaiming her own identity and deciding who exactly she is.” (from Footnotes, Carlton.edu)

I had suppressed my dreams for 30 years. Yes, I wrote. Yes, I grew a garden (in the city) and, yes, I grew a little food…but it was all done in a caterpillary-way. Not fully. Without WINGS!

When I read that journal entry, saying exactly what I wanted most deeply in my heart, I burst into tears. Tears because of the length of time I had been sleeping. Tears because I didn’t know how to awaken until now.

The most vital part of transformation is taking action. Andy and I bought a cabin in the North Carolina mountains in November of 2021. We’re still working on relocating from Colorado Springs permanently. I’m determined to be there this summer.
(It is not an easy matter, packing up 40 years of one’s life!)

This is the place Andy found. Take a look! My mini-farm is on its way, but this home is perfect for now!

I’m certain that I’m entering the best phase of my life.

Now, on Moving to Substack…

There is so much I want to share. The adventures I’ve had so far, new friends, major dreams beginning to be realized.

One of the many changes I’m making is moving from WordPress to Substack. I will finally monetize my writing the way it should have been done many years ago. Flora’s Forum will become Greenwoman.

I’m also going to be publishing a second Substack newsletter (just now, I decided to name her Old Butterfly). This publication will explore what I’ve learned during the last year and a half about healing childhood trauma. Healing trauma has changed everything in my life for the better, but it goes far beyond me. I truly feel this healing is the key to transforming humanity.

There was I time when I was so stuck I didn’t know what the future could hold. So I just worked on holding on to what I had.

Now I am healed, focused, and trying out those beautiful wings!

There are so many things that I (by golly!) am learning to do, doing, and WILL do.

The eleven years of Flora’s Forum posts will be transferred. I’m still figuring out what I’ll offer those who can’t afford a subscription. I discovered yesterday that the lowest cost per month and per year that Substack allows you to charge is $5/month or $50/year. (Substack gets 10%.) I wanted to create a subscription cost of half that amount, but it’s not possible. Maybe it’s a good thing. I’ve been influenced by a “poverty mindset” mostof my life.

For those who do not wish to/or who can’t support my writing through a subscription, there will be some free posts, but I have decided that it’s high time, after being a writer for over 30 YEARS, to honor my work the way it should be honored.

This is my last post on Flora’s Forum which will be up, I believe, until May 2.

I hope you’ll join me at Substack!

I am EXCITED to share my new life with you and I hope you will be there to share yours with me.

With all the love in the world,

Sandy

P. S. If you’re not on my mailing list and would appreciate an email after I’m up and running at Substack, contact me here: maefayne(at)msn.com

The Goddess Flora as Crone

The Goddess Flora as Crone by Lisa Lister

Several weeks (at the beginning of our Stay at Home Orders in Colorado) I “met” Lisa Lister, Flora as Crone’s creator, via email. This happened through friend/poet/mother/ librarian/more Jessy Randall. (Thank you, Jessy, for, as you put it, introducing one “green woman” to another!) Lisa and I corresponded, got to know one another. Aside from being taken with her painting of Flora (a perfect fit for a Flora’s Forum post!) I learned we had connections as far as our vision for the future of gardens. We were both at a place where we were more attracted to “re-wilding” than gardening! More on that later; for now, enjoy Lisa’s creation of a broader and wiser vision of Flora!—S.K.K.

The Goddess Flora as Crone

Flora, the Roman goddess of flowers and fertility is overwhelmingly depicted in imagery as a youthful, innocent-looking, yet voluptuous maiden. (Hmmm…I wonder how many of those artists were men?) As she represents spring, it is, perhaps, understandable that Flora has been primarily represented as young. But why, I wondered, shouldn’t she be seen as growing old, a natural part of life? Shouldn’t we uplift not only the radiance and energy of a youthful woman, but also the seasoned and vibrant being of the same woman, but aged . . . an elder, a crone?

I envisioned the woman in my painting “The Goddess Flora as Crone” as sage, with many decades of experience. She helps usher in and oversees spring, protecting blossoms and assuring the seasonal abundance of flowers. I wanted her to exude the confidence of a woman in her full power, yet with a slightly impish and all-knowing glint in her eyes.

In this context, I have also reclaimed the word “crone” which, unfortunately, has degenerated to mean a disagreeable and ugly hag with malicious supernatural powers. Not so! I choose to define a crone as a wise woman, ordinary and yet extraordinary, one who has absorbed the energy of the green and growing earth, season after season, and who uses that abundant energy for good.
—Lisa Lister

Lisa with elf ear one Halloween

Lisa Fay Lister spent her childhood in Kansas, where vast open skies and wild thunderstorms soothed her soul, even as a young girl. In her gypsy-like twenties, her vision was to live in a peaceful, inclusive and egalitarian world. Her life journey has been joyfully circuitous, but she still holds fast to that utopian vision. Lisa is a retired academic librarian, and now paints in her backyard studio, surrounded by a yard that is slowly rewilding.

Give Them Nature

One of my favorite Luther Burbank quotes.

— S. K.

 

Please Don’t Piss on the Petunias—a Memoir

 

My memoir is coming out this month!

Yes, I know. I announced that it was coming out “soon” in JUNE (over six months ago). This baby is late, very late. As some of you know, I’m a self-taught publisher. Over the last eight years, I’ve published six issues of Greenwoman, a YA novel (Zera and the Green Man), a book of short stories (Fifty Shades of Green), a few e-books, and many articles and posts. I’ve had the honor and pleasure of working with many talented writers of fiction, creative non-fiction, and poetry. I’d published so many things, but I’d never published a memoir—so here, once again, was another huge learning curve.

I thought I had all the material, all the stories I’d written over the years, and it could be easily put together. Oh, ha ha—wishful thinking! Luckily, my daughters (thank the heavens for them, always bringing me back to reality and keeping the bar set high) told me that the first draft was too incomplete and too inconsistent.

Those were not words I was hoping to hear.

My daughters urged me to rewrite several of the stories in past tense. A significant undertaking.

Then I discovered that the book, about our menagerie of pets over the years (among other things), really needed a story about our dog Chancho.

More importantly, the book needed an “origin” story.

That story took another month of writing, but first I had to time-travel back twenty-five years. (And let me tell you, time-travel is not easy!) The process was difficult emotionally, reliving those days, the tough times back in the early days, before all the fun started with raising kids, chickens, and a garden. Andy and I were just starting out in business and in parenthood, paying student loans and the mortgage on two houses for an entire year, living paycheck to paycheck (having to borrow money at times from his brother Danny to keep the utilities on), as Andy worked seven days a week to fix up a beautiful yet humble home with (finally) a space to garden . . . Oh, and did I mention I was pregnant with Lily and we had no health insurance?

I wrote the origin story. We went over the manuscript, again. And then again, reading it aloud this time and making over 600 more editing changes.

Two days ago I received what I hope will be the final proof. One more fine-tooth comb reading and a only a few (I hope!) minor edits.

I was reminded: Anything worthwhile takes time and thought and care. More than you imagine!

But today, finally, a sneak peek! Here she is. Almost born!

(Consider this an invitation to the baby shower.)

Now for the backstory on the title, because some of you might remember that it was going to be titled The Chicken Chronicles. A good friend alerted me (thank you, V. G.!) that there was already a memoir with that title, by the illustrious Alice Walker (the Pulitzer-prize winning author of The Color Purple). Her book was also about chickens. So . . . I had to think of another title. Not easy, as that was my “working title” for years.

For a while I was stuck on Mother Hen . . .  but no one seemed thrilled about that one, and the only male beta reader (hello, Geno!) gave it a thumbs’ down in appeal to male readers. A clever friend (again, G. V.) , suggested a few alternatives. Her favorite was Chicken Scratches, which had its charms, but as I always prided myself on good penpersonship, it didn’t connect with me the way it needed to.

Sidenote: Wow, while writing this, I just thought of another title . . . Clucked Up. Ha ha! Maybe that will be the title of the sequel! Goodness knows there have been many more challenges and harrowing adventures this last decade— and especially these last two years!

Anyway, back to the subject at hand: One day I was rattling off title suggestions to Lily, including “Please Don’t Piss on the Penstemons,” the original title of one of the stories about our dog, Broonzy, and his destructive puppyhood. The back story on that title is that it’s a play on the old book/movie title Please Don’t Eat the Daisies, a work I’d never read, but I remembered vividly from childhood.

Lily said, “I like that one.”

I said, “I do too, especially the alliteration, but . . . I don’t know. It has a swear word. And I think there are a lot of people who don’t even know what penstemons are!”

Lily said that readers could look up penstemons—and that it wasn’t a big deal about “piss.”

I still thought it could be a dangerous move, a title with both “penstemons” and “piss,” so I decided to change penstemons to another “p” flower. What would sound best? We asked friends their preference: poppies, pansies, petunias or peonies?

“Petunias” won.

Now, to take a look at “piss” (ha). I researched: “book titles with swear words.” It seems that it can actually help sell a book these days!  Who knew? I brought it up to a media-savvy friend (hello, Mary Ellen!) a decade older than I am. She was, to my surprise, very enthusiastic. She said, “Our book club chose to read The Badass Librarians of Timbuktu  because of the title. Do it, Sandy!”

Still searching for a bit more reassurance (this was a big move!), I brought up the subject of swear words in book titles in Facebook-land. My mother immediately commented that she would never have a book with a swear word in the title on her coffee table! (Protecting the grandchildren and great-grandchildren, you see. I didn’t even disclose what the colorful word would be, but she was against it.)

So “Piss” it was!

The book is very sweet (and only slightly pissy). More than anything, it is a love letter to our home and garden, our family, and Nature.

I hope you’ll make a note to buy a copy this month. I’ll let you know when she is born!

With much love and appreciation to all who have helped bring yet another dream to fruition,

— Sandy

Wild Like the Fairies

I saw this quote/image this week on Facebook and shared it. So many were taken with it that I decided to reproduce it here.

The artist Florence Harrison (1877–1955) “was an Art Nouveau and Pre-Raphaelite illustrator of poetry and children’s books. Many of her books were published by Blackie and Sons. She illustrated books by notable Pre-Raphaelite circle poets Christina Rosetti, William Morris, and Sir Alfred Tennyson.” (from Wikipedia)

Jonny Ox is a writer/folk musician who creates “Artistic musings for poetic hearts, playful minds, and deep souls.” (from his Facebook page)

I love it when art and poetry from across time merge into something so relatable.

— SK

Wordless Wednesday: Bees

I LOVE this. Every day we should send a word of thanks to our pollinators!

The Chicken Chronicles book is About to Hatch!

(One mock-up of a cover design—not the final version!)

 

Big Announcement: I’ve nearly finished a project I started on two years ago!

It feels great to finally get to this place. And, as this project is a memoir of our family’s “country in the city” experiment over nearly two decades, I’m happy that these adventures are soon to be in book form.

For those of you who haven’t read stories from the collection that have appeared in Greenwoman Magazine  or on this blog, here’s the book description:

THE CHICKEN CHRONICLES is a collection of essays and stories written by an unapologetically quirky plant and animal lover who dives deep into creating a “country living in the city” experience for her family. Engaging, erudite, and often hilarious, THE CHICKEN CHRONICLES follows Colorado author Sandra Knauf as:

She and her young daughters meet neighbor Grandma Ruby, an 80-something-year-old cottage gardener/chicken raiser, who inspires Sandra to start her own backyard flock of exotic breed bantam chickens.

She confesses and explores her shocking and insatiable lust — for seed catalogs.

She becomes involved in a garden tour fundraiser for Barack Obama’s 2008 campaign and gets a close look at her city’s partisan politics — the good, the bad, and the ugly.

She examines 21^st century lawns, “the biggest waste of water in suburbia,” and shares her experiences — from working as a teenager at a lawn care company in the 1980s to becoming an ecology-minded gardener hell-bent on getting rid of the bluegrass.

She introduces us to unforgettable animals: an ill-fated Neatherlands dwarf bunny, Puff; an out-of-control black Labrador puppy, Broonzy; a coop full of exotic breed bantams with the names of Greek goddesses, and more.

She gives the lowdown on her city’s green fringe through other adventures that include: capturing a swarm of bees, joining a garden club, and becoming a gardener-for-hire in her city’s richest neighborhood.

She ponders life and discovers that the most important lesson is to love it, participate in it, and live it exactly how you want to.

A picture taken during The Chicken Chronicles era: Daughters Zora (with chick “Kayley”) and Lily with “Jessica.” As we bought unsexed chicks, the girls were hoping for egg-laying hens and named them accordingly. Their two favorite “hens” turned out to be roosters.

 

While I’m writing today to announce this upcoming collection, I’m also here to ask: Would any of you be interested in being beta (test) readers? I have a PDF ready and I would LOVE to hear what you think of this book!

If you’re interested, just send me a note at maefayne(at)msn.com. I would need your comments by the end of the month and I’ll include a list of questions to guide your critique with the PDF.

I hope you can participate; I would love for you to be a part of this project!

Sandy

* * *

 

You’re Never Too Old

Galanter Herr on Summer Meadow (with dandelion), by Richard Mauch, 1921.

Simon’s Snowdrops (with a poem)

Galanthus nivalis and Galanthus nivalis forma pleniflorus ‘Flore Pleno’, by Simon Garbutt, March 2006, via Wikimedia Commons.

 

The Snowdrop

by Lord Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892)

 

Many, many welcomes,
February fair-maid,
Ever as of old time,
Solitary firstling,
Coming in the cold time,
Prophet of the May time,
Prophet of the roses,
Many, many welcomes,
February fair-maid!

* * *

I love this upbeat end-of-winter poem by Lord Alfred Tennyson. Just what we need (or, at least, just what I need!) on a grey February day.

I found the image on Wikimedia Commons this morning. The gardener/photographer writes:

“This is a direct scan, which I made myself, from bulbs of two different common snowdrops; the normal Galanthus nivalis and its double-flowered version, Galanthus nivalis forma pleniflorus ‘Flore Pleno’. Both are common in gardens throughout Britain, and are also found naturalised in woodland.”

Thanks, Simon, and Lord Alfred, for sharing your work, your flowers!—SK

* * *

Jack Frost Mystery

 

A couple of weeks ago Virginia Gambardella sent me a few lines of this Jack Frost-themed poem (below). I “Googled” the stanza and found the rest of the poem in an old textbook. Then I found this image (above) on Pinterest. The strange thing is that I haven’t been able to find the artist of the illustration or the name of the poet. Hence, “Jack Frost Mystery”!

How fun it is to read the poems during grandma or great-grandma’s time. Can you imagine how magical it must have been to read classroom books that featured poems and stories about  fairies and Jack Frost?
—S. K.

The Little Artist

Oh, there is a little artist
Who paints in the cold night hours
Pictures of wee, wee children
Of wondrous trees and flowers;

Pictures of snow-capped mountains
Touching the snow-white sky;
Pictures of distance oceans
Where pygmy ships sail by;

Pictures of rushing rivers,
By fairy-bridges spanned;
Bits of beautiful landscapes,
Copied from elfin land.

The moon is the lamp he paints by,
His canvas the windowpane;
His brush is a frozen snowflake;
Jack Frost is the artist’s name.

(From Essentials of English: Lower Grades by Henry Carr Pearson and Mary Frederika Kirshwey, copyright 1921, American Book Company)

“Ice-Crystals II” by Angela Marie from NRW/Germany, via Wikimedia Commons