Hedgebrook Day Seven: Going home and making some resolutions

(The last in a series of posts about the week I spent at Hedgebrook Writers Retreat for Women on Whidby Island off the coast of Washington in December 2012)

the blue Dutch door  of "my" Willow Cottage

the office. where they take care of administrative details, and you'll usually find
 a  happy dog who comes to work with a staff member.

the barn, where larger groups meet for readings and social events

for internet access, residents visit the pump house

or the farmhouse . . . 

...because you won't find it in the cottages. 

So, having spent a peaceful, serene week with my laptop and my thoughts in a cozy little cottage in the forest, the challenge is how to carry the spirit of Hedgebrook home with me. 

I will continue to downsize and declutter, especially in my office, 
which should be a writing sanctuary. 

I can designate certain hours as internet-free.

And I can simply take the phone off the hook during prime writing hours. 

After all, that's why we have an answering machine. 

Hedgebrook Writers Retreat Day Six: a Photographic Essay

(Continuing a series of posts about the week I spent at Hedgebrook Writers Retreat for Women on Whidby Island off the coast of Washington in December 2012)

On the path to the cottages

A place for everything and everything in its place

In case of earthquake, put on the hard hat.

What the grounds look like in the spring and summer
Photo c/o Hedgebrook

The path to the farmhouse - in the spring
photo c/o Hedgebrook

When evening falls
photo c/o Hedgebrook

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep . . . "

view from my window seat

All the comforts of home. Upstairs in the loft

View from the window seat in the bathhouse

Time for contemplation

A quiet stream ends in a waterfall

A  stationary guardian of Hedgebrook

Hedgebrook Writers Retreat Day Five

(Continuing a series of posts about the week I spent at Hedgebrook Writers Retreat for Women on Whidby Island off the coast of Washington in December 2012)

photo c/o Hedgebrook

At the Hedgebrook Womens Writers Retreat on Whidby Island off the coast of Washington, everything has been beautifully designed for comfort, privacy, inspiration and contemplation, from the cottages and gardens to the farmhouse and the landscaping.  

The cottages are handcrafted, each made from a different variety of wood, and each with one-of-a kind artisan touches. The Amish influence on the construction is evident in the open beams, use of wooden pegs, and hand-made furnishings. 

The kitchens are efficient, with a toaster oven, hotplate, and small refrigerator. There are enough pots and pans, dishes and silverware to                       accommodate one person easily. 

Every window offers a beautiful view of the surrounding forest. This one is from the window seat in the Willow Cottage, where I stayed.

 This is another view from a window.

I learned to build and maintain fires in the surprisingly efficient wood-burning stove. 

I took this photo of the woodpile because I knew my son in Finland would be impressed, as his home is heated by a large soapstone wood-burning stove, and he has learned the art of stacking wood. 

Each cottage has a half-bath. In the bathhouse are private showers, laundry facilities, and . . .  

 a deep, claw-footed tub, where one can enjoy a long candlelight bath in fragrant bath salts. 

Hand-crafted tiles and basin in the bathhouse. 

Though the kitchens are fully equipped, the dinner table, where wonderful food is served and warm conversations enjoyed, is in the farmhouse. Hedgebrook employ several terrific chefs. Produce, in season, comes from the garden (which had been put to rest in December, but is pictured at its height in the summer). Other food is supplied by local farmers. 

photo c/o Hedgebrook

A typical table set for writers in residence. 

photo c/o Hedgebrook

The queen-sized bed with handcrafted headboard is reached by a ladder.

If a guest doesn't want to brave the ladder, a bed can easily be made below the loft, under a bank of windows that offers yet another perspective. 

The stained-glass windows in my loft made me think of Monet's irises. The sound of rain on the roof was a wonderful accompaniment to waking and sleeping. 

photo c/o Hedgebrook

As seen from the loft, there is ample desk space below for the working author.

Bookcases allow for ample storage of an author's personal library, but I traveled light. The dictionary and thesaurus were sufficient, and the farmhouse has a good-sized library filled with books written by previous residents. 

On the path to the farmhouse, this open fire pit invites writers to spend a cozy evening in front of a bonfire. In December, we didn't choose to. 

Photo by Kate

I heard owls at night, and I also heard stories about them swooping over resident writers, encouraging some women to wear hats, but the only owl I saw was this carved one, which stands guard over the garden. 

Day Four at Hedgebrook: Getting Stuck

Getting stuck: There are many ways to get stuck in life. I'm currently stuck on a manuscript, 1/3 into the story. It will be fixed with a good outline and some clear thinking...

At Hedgebrook Writers Retreat on Whidbey Island (off the coast of  Washington), accommodations are available for people with mobility needs. Since my ankle can be unpredictable, especially on uneven surfaces, I decided to try the motorized scooter they keep on hand. It didn't have headlights, so at night, it was back to flashlights and walking (which caused no problems). But in the daylight, it was great on the bark/gravel paths beyond the cottages. So one day I decided to go exploring. Off the beaten path.There are so many beautiful walks you can take there. 

"All trails lead downhill," one of the staff said. Well, not exactly. Some are fairly flat. "You can't be lost for more than half an hour or so," she added. "You'll always find your way back to a familiar path." They didn't know who they were dealing with. 

Perhaps they should have given me a tracking device. You know, the kind criminals have to wear, or skiers who are going in to the back country where there is avalanche danger. The kind some parents are starting to put on their toddlers. 

Anyway, I was zipping along, loving the cool, damp air, and the beautiful forest, and exploring new territory. There were layers of fallen leaves in many areas, and before I realized it, I had driven onto some leaves that covered deep mud. And I got stuck. 

Oh, boy, I thought. Tried a bit of rocking, only got in deeper. Turned the wheels to the right, where the mud appeared to be less dense. No success. Tried to fill all the ruts with leaves to give the wheels some more traction. No luck. 

Then, on my way to find help, I decided to call my Finnish son because it was his birthday. I told him where I was, what I was doing, and that I'd managed to get a four-wheeler stuck in the mud. "They gave YOU a four-wheeler?" he asked, genuinely shocked. "Who put YOU on a four-wheeler?" 

Who knew he felt that way? What DO my children say about me when I'm not there?

"Well, it's not a real four-wheeler. It's just a motorized scooter I can use to spare my ankle," I said. 

"Oh." That seemed more acceptable to him. A "little-old-lady" 4-wheeled scooter. I could hear the relief in his voice. 

"Who put my Grandma on a four-wheeler?" 

 I found a gardener and we took off in a golf cart to find the stranded chair. "Happens all the time," she said. "Everyone's been stuck." I think she said that just to be nice. Anyway, we found the deserted scooter. Wish I'd taken a picture. I drove the golf cart back to the farmhouse and soon she appeared on the scooter. 

"You did everything right," she said cheerfully. "I got it out right away. I turned the wheels to the right, as you did, and then just threw all my weight forward and leaned to the right, and that was enough to get the wheels out of the mud." 

The scooter seemed untouched by the little adventure, other than a bit of mud on the tires,  and I wasn't any worse for the wear either, so the story had a happy ending. 

"Just another day at Hedgebrook," I'm sure the staff said.