I’d like to start by saying this blog post is dedicated to one very special pig. It’s time I share my main character’s real life story with you.

Pig’s real name was Basil and he was a Buroc pig. My stepsister Julie bid on him at the county fair where he was to be auctioned off as a bacon pig. That was until she came along, gazed into his chocolate brown eyes, and fell madly in love. Did she know she was going to be buying a pig that day? No. She wasn’t even sure how to get him home but this was love at first sight, the real thing, and nothing was going to stop her. It took the county sheriff and a ferry ride to get Basil back to the farm but it was worth it because this is where he ended up living, quite happily, for the rest of his life.

Julie loved her pig and I can see why. He was charming, had a lot of hobbies, and a lot to say. He enjoyed communicating with people, swimming in the pond, playing hide and seek, and rooting the soil with his snout.

Unlike my character, Basil didn’t have to eat only apples, although we do grow some awesome apples here. He was a vegetarian and as it turned out, quite the gardener. He tilled, fertilized, and planted his squash garden without any help from humans, all organic, of course. I’ll never forget when I saw that he’d planted squash. I recognized the leaves in his pen and stood there in awe, holding my son who was just a baby at the time. I thought Julie had planted them and when she said, no, it took me a moment. How did they get there? I pondered.  Julie filled in some of the gaps, explaining that Basil had done it all. He’d even provide the seeds, which he’d eaten some days before. That’s when I did what any exhausted mother would do and I laughed my guts out! A pig who’d planted a garden! It was amazing! Outstanding! Unbelievable!

Julie quietly watched me while tears of laughter and joy streamed down my face. Of course she knew her pig was exceptional and the fact that he’d planted his own garden was like, well, to be expected. I mean, after all, he was smart, talented, and good-looking. Not only did he plant a garden, he educated people by helping to show the importance of the humane treatment of animals. He was accomplished and wise and, little did we all know, destined to be a star.

There are only a few clouds in the sky today. The bay is emerald green and rippling from a slight breeze that rolls across Turtle Back Mountain. Madrona trees surround me, serene, majestic, and comforting. It’s a good day but I have to say that I’m still grieving. I don’t know how long it will last and I’m afraid it could be the rest of my life but I’m sure it’ll get better. I hope. So to heap more change onto everything I’ve decided to moved my studio to my dad’s old office on our property. It’s a bold and bittersweet decision that’s come with a lot of tears. He loved this little cottage and he worked in it nearly everyday until late in the evenings. My daughter would visit him after school and I use to wonder what they talked about until I heard her speak at his funeral.  Mind you, she’s only seven. “He’ll never have to pay bills anymore. No more bills, bills, bills!”

God, I love that kid.

This small space holds so many memories and it’s been hard to move or change anything. I just keep cramming my paintings in among his stuff. I can’t even move his eyeglasses. They sit right where he left them as if he might come back and put them on. So as I wait to hear from agents and publishers about my recent middle grade submissions,( and a picture book,) I ready myself for what comes next. How do you balance rejection with grief? I ask myself that question a lot and I always come back to the same place. You keep creating, building, writing, painting, and expressing yourself. After all, we’re all entitled to paint and write, even if it sucks. Seriously! Great ideas can only come about if you give them a place to live and an opportunity to be revised, then hopefully, when the times right, you have the guts to stick them out there for the world to see. Frankly, I sometimes feel like it might be easier to run naked across a crowded park but I’d better not do that because I could give someone a heart attack  and I don’t want that to happen.

I should also mention that next week is the debut of “A Garden for Pig,” at the BEA. I’m crossing my fingers that it goes well!

Here we are. Spring has arrived like a fresh start, filled with the promise of abundance. Baby chicks scamper about, plants are blooming, bees are pollinating, and it seems everywhere you go there are neighbors working in their gardens, tilling soil, starting seeds, and planting. It makes me excited, really excited, which is why I had to go on my daughter’s recent field trip to this amazing farm. I squeeze in with my camera, snapping shots, taking notes, and trying not to squish kids out of my way.

We’re fortunate to have some fantastic farmers here on the island because not only do they share their produce, they share their time and wisdom with our children. One of them who gives so generously to the classrooms in our public school is Rhonda Barbieri, owner of La Campesina Project. Most of the time you’ll find her working on her farm or at the farmer’s market selling her produce, but she’s also a regular visitor to the school. Last fall we harvested seeds with her and just recently she invited two classrooms to her farm for a tour. There were thirty-six kids in total, all 2^nd and 3^rd graders, and, wow, were they excited.

Rhonda waits, with her dog Rudy Blue, as we begin to tumble out of the bus and I’m pretty sure I can see the whites of their eyes. There’s so many kids! Some of them hug her and others, including myself, look around the farm in awe. It’s a lot of energy but the kids love the farm and they love Rhonda.

This is where I need to point out that Rhonda has a gift. Not just for growing plants but in her beautiful way of explaining ecology. It’s more like listening to poetry, really. She leads us to the coop. “Animals grow plants and plants grow animals,” she says, in explaining the connectedness of ecology.

The kids watch the chickens, my favorite part, and learn how chicken manure is an organic fertilizer for plants, helping to feed them, and in return those plants provide food for the chickens. “The chickens are a community in themselves,” says Rhonda. “They take care of each other. Roosters look out for hawks and other predators while hens lay eggs.”

“The bees are a community, too,” Rhonda adds, moving toward the bee boxes. A swarm, along with a with a queen, will leave the nest and set up a new hive in the trees to help the odds of the hives survival, which is sadly getting more and more difficult for honey bees. “Gardens need to coexist with the larger ecology and bees are really important to the ecology of the world.”

We pass the pond and she explains how everyone in the valley shares the same water. We discover that she uses solar power to run the pump, which pushes the water up the hill and is used to water the farm with the most minimal amount of impact to the earth.

We see seedlings growing in the greenhouse.

We take time to eat an apple and sketch the chickens.

We plant sunflower seeds in containers made from newspaper!  I’m pretty sure my daughter is the dirtiest kid in the bunch.

On the bus ride home, I reflect on the idea of community. How we don’t always realize they’re there, we take them for granted, we forget the ways in which we make a difference in them but then… something happens. Loved ones die, events change, people move, and suddenly our eyes are forced opened, again. We see ourselves, not as a singular entity but as a part of a larger unit, one that relies on the unique abilities of each individual. Sure, we may feel our roles are small but they’re important and they make a difference. Sometimes in bigger ways than we could ever imagine. I think when we see ourselves as all connected, we find friends we never knew we had.

Thank you Rhonda for sharing your farm, your time, and your wisdom!

It’s been a while since I’ve posted a painting but here it is. This is an old barn down the street from where I live. I finished the piece three weeks ago and just received confirmation that it arrived in New York safely, where it will be shown next month, along with my book’s debut at the BEA. Hurray!!

All I can hope is that around every dark passage there will be some light and inspiration. As some of us know inspiration is fleeting and when you find it you’ve got to nurture, water, and take it seriously if you really want it to grow because if ignored, it just shrivels up and dies. That’s what I’m reminded of lately, after my week with my family in Hawaii and  here at the SCBWI writer’s conference.My family and I peeled in late last night just in the nick of time for the conference. I have to say, just quickly, that we had an amazing time on some of the most beautiful beaches on the big island I’ve seen but it’s always nice to get home and what better reason why. For anyone wanting to write for children this conference it’s an absolute must. For me the best part is making new friends with folks who share the same obsession and more importantly, seeing my own beautiful and talented critique group from the island. (You’re the best.)

Some of the highlights of today were listening to Laini Taylor, author of Lips Touch and the DreamDark series, talk about how hard she finds the writing process, as well as her relationship with the delete key. Boy, do I understand that. It seems the more I learn about the craft of writing the more my finger twitches over the delete key. Like Laini, I think it might be my main squeeze. In addition to Laini,  Jay Asher, author of Thirteen Reasons Why, also told his amazing twelve-year journey to publishing, the rejections, crazy costumes, and zillions of manuscripts along the way. He was inspiring, genuine, and down right funny. What a ride he’s had.

One of my highlights of the day was listening to author Sundee Frazier’s talk about how to write believable boy characters. She showed a great clip of author interviews on how they created their believable boys and the general theme was that you create them from the inside out, emphasizing their emotions then letting them express them however they would.  She had us do an exercise where we recalled a childhood event that brought up a certain feeling to help us connect with it. Hey, maybe therapy is really good for writing!

My favorite part of her speech was her quote from Art & Fear, by David Bayles, that struck a deep core with me. “In large measure becoming an artist consists of learning to accept yourself, which makes your work personal, and in following your voice, which makes your work distinctive.”

I LOVE that!!  So with that, let’s get out there and express ourselves!

Last fall, while on my way to school, I noticed some chickens in the pasture on my neighbor’s farm. Big deal, right? I know it’s not unusual for folks to have chickens, especially around here, but what struck me as funny was that these chickens have a converted trailer for a coop. It’s a mobile chicken home, which makes them chickens on the move, literally, and they can go anywhere. I thought, what a clever idea! I mean doesn’t every chicken want to go somewhere?

My kids and I make up stories about how the farmer hooks the coop up to his truck and bumpity bump, they’re off on an adventure. So far, in real life, they’ve only gone across the pasture but who knows, there’s still time.

Of course, this has now become the inspiration for one of my manuscripts, called Clementine. It’s still a work in progress but I wanted to share with you these special chickens that have captured my heart and who knows, maybe one day they’ll make it into print and really go places.