Niagra Falls and Ginko Photos

While out interviewing Richard Ryan, PhD (Professor of psychology, psychiatry, and education, University of Rochester. Lead author of “Vitalizing effects of being outdoors and in nature,” Journal of Environmental Psychology.) and Elizabeth K. Nisbet, PhD, (Psychology Department, Trent University, Ontario. Researcher on individual differences in subjective connectedness with nature--nature relatedness--and the links with health, well-being/happiness, and environmentally sustainable behavior.), Chris stopped at Niagara Falls and fell in love with a ginkgo tree. 

Look forward to more of his amazing images in his new film--Dancing With Thoreau!

Enjoy!

The Birds!

Chris has decided to become better friends with the crows in the neighborhood by tossing them peanuts while we go for our daily walks. These shots give you an idea of how things are going so far.

Chris Korrow's Cover Art for LILIPOH Magazine!

Chris Korrow's image appeared as the cover art for the spring issue of LILIPOH.

Beach Patterns

Chris is always exploring the details of patterns found in nature. Here are some shots from one of the Pacific Ocean beaches at Olympic National Park, Washington.

The Organic Bug Book...coming soon!

Update, April 2013--the book is at the printer and will be available in early May!

Chris is putting the finishing touches on his full color children's book, The Organic Bug Book (forthcoming from SteinerBooks). The book is based on his documentary Garden Insects and it is the story of his relationship with bugs interspersed with facts about insects.

The text has been through a final edit, and the last images are being converted to CMYK!

We will keep you posted as to the exact date of publication!

Chris to Read His Children's Story at South Whidbey Libraries

Come and hear Chris read from his adventurous children's story, "A Dragon Rose," the tale of a fearless knight who, while on a quest to slay a dragon, happens upon someone, both strange and unexpected.

The story won first prize in the children's literature category in the 2011 Spirit of Writing Contest sponsored by The Whidbey Island Writers Association.

He along with some of the other award winning writers will be reading at libraries in South Whidbey over the next few weeks.

Thursday January 12th 7pm Langley
Saturday January 14th 10:30am Clinton
Thursday January 25th 7pm Freeland

Stay at Home Retreat: Health, Poetry and Spiritual Inquiry

When I told my friend, Caifornia-based poet Ellaraine Lockie that I had finished a four-day stay at home retreat, she suggested I write about it, that other writers might like to know how and what I did.

Well you can imagine that two things which inspired this kind retreat (as opposed to traveling somewhere) were time and money, or rather lack of it. In the last three months, I have already traveled to Mexico with family, and then to NYC with daughter for a college visit, therefore my travel time and budget were used up for the next few months at least.

Some aspects of my lifestyle worked in my favor. I have a creative and supportive family who understands the importance of pursuing art and spiritual contemplative study. This was important—I didn’t have lots of loud people in my periphery, people asking me to do things for them or meet their needs.

I live on a beautiful farm and especially this time of year the cherry tree in front of the house is in full bloom and the pastures around the house are bright green. Because I live here all the time, I think I forget, or take for granted, how beautiful Cumberland County Kentucky is. Often times I think about all of the places I would rather be. This time was an opportunity to settle in to a remembrance of the beauty of my own backyard.

Earlier in the year I posted photos of my beautiful new writing space, well-lit with big windows and bird feeders. So, while the beach is always calling me, my own humble home is also a place of tremendous inspiration. My muse is on call 24/7, it’s helpful to be reminded that I do not have to travel to exotic places or place myself in complete isolation to find her.

More or less the retreat, or any retreat for that matter, was more of a mindset, and in some ways even a form of clever trickery. An agreement perhaps, or a commitment of sorts. I scheduled the four-day block well-ahead of time. I wrote it on my calendar just as I would any other time important commitment, and I informed my family that this event would be taking place. I arranged my work schedule accordingly, and yes, I had to say no to a few things. For instance, a coworker who missed her usual work day offered to come later in the week, but instead, I rescheduled her to come the following week. I made arrangements with my husband to take up my usual day driving daughter to dance class. So, it did take a bit of effort. But a small price to pay. I can see how if I would have been more lax, life would certainly have seen to it that I didn’t have this time to dedicate to my art, my self-development, my health. Here I was faced with the question of worth and value of these sometimes diminished rights—and it felt right to place these pursuits in a place of importance, for this short block of time anyway. If I can’t say “no” to the onslaught of outside influences for only four days, how can I expect these aspects to thrive?

So—how did I spend my time? I spent long periods in the morning journaling, and in mediation.

I was able to edit large numbers of poems, and complied a new chapbook. I submitted the chapbook to some contests, and submitted additional poems to online literary magazines.

I sat outside and ate my lunch. I reinstated my daily brisk two mile walks, which had fallen by the wayside with cold wet winter weather (perfect excuses!).

I took the time to consult the I Ching on matters relating to the direction of my writing (#14—those who act out of a place of joy can’t help but gain followers).

I studied Mary Oliver’s A Poetry Handbook” A Prose Guide to Understanding and Writing Poetry, read quite a bit of Ezra Pound, and another book about Tolkien’s work on the Oxford English Dictionary, and his wonderful ability to adapt Old and Middle English words into his stories.

I ate a lot of raw foods (salads, fruits, smoothies). I find a noticeable increase in mental clarity and energy when I eat mostly fruits and salads.

I only checked email in order to look up contest and submission info (I did take one phone call from my friend Pat Ritter).

How did I feel on Monday? Well, as though I could use two weeks of this kind of life! But really, I reentered into a busy work day with a renewed sense of ease and appreciation. My thoughts had slowed, they had a chance to stretch, and feel free. I accomplished more that usual working at a slow and steady pace. I have a clear understanding of why this is—I have taken a bit of my retreat-ness with me into my week. Not having to transition back into home, and my “usual” life, saved me from having to experience a sense of feeling let down, having to give up a strong feeling of freedom. The stay at home retreat didn’t set up such a strong contrast between “retreat life” and “regular life.” Feeling this in my own home was empowering, I know I can encounter a sense of freedom that I once thought I could only access by getting away.

I highly recommend trying this. It’s affordable, it feeds your soul, and your muse will reward you for it.

—Christy Korrow

Tour of the LILIPOH editorial office

Tools of the trade: At LILIPOH we primarily use the AP Style Guide, but keep the Chicago Manual around for trickier issues.


We just repainted the office after eight years! A soft yellow with orange undertones fosters creativity (according to Feng Shui), and a soft sage green was used for trim. According to Feng Shui research, it is good to pair an earth color with a fire color, for grounding (in Feng Shui terms, wood feeds fire).



The desk for associate editor, Kaye Williams.

Books, papers, newsletters, misc office supplies.

Recent issues of LILIPOH are handy near the desk for quick reference.


The LILIPOH archives.

Ravioli Making or Time Well Spent

Food has always been something to celebrate in our family. Even in our earlier years of farming, when, as a family of four, our income was $7,000 a year, we always ate better than most people we knew. Good food was a priority. Besides the vegetables we grew (and still do) we would source raw milk, local beef and chicken. Most of the time we had our own chickens for eggs and for many years we kept our own milk cow.

The fact that organic food was expensive never mattered. I am not sure how we did it, but we always stocked our pantry with organic food. I think we were able to budget so well for two reasons--one was that we grew most of the vegetables, and produced some of our own meats, dairy and eggs. But the other reason that we were able to afford to eat organic is that we cooked from scratch. Staples and whole food ingredients, even organic ones, will work out to be less expensive than buying prepackaged or processed foods.

To people who still complain that organic food is too expensive, I would point out that food is a reflection of our core values. It is one of our few central needs. So much of our life now revolves around nonessentials, to the point that food, exercise, quality time with those we love, and maintaining a healthy earth ecosystem don’t make it onto our “to-do” list of life. Is there a correlation between the fact that food spending has dropped from 25% of our income at the turn of the century, to now less than 10%, while spending on health care has risen from 5% to 18%? Our health, our desire for vitality, our ability to nurture and experience a sense of place are reflected back to us in our relationship with food. An additional aspect of this is the extent to which we are willing to invest both time and money into high-quality foods--aka fresh, local, organic or biodynamic. (Chances are if it is even one of those, there will be superior nutritional value and more life forces.)



Things have changed for our family, we are not so exclusively oriented towards a chop wood carry water lifestyle, although we do still do both of those activities. One thing that hasn’t changed it that we still love to cook from scratch. Sure, we sometimes eat out, especially when we are out late at night, keeping up with our two busy teenagers.

Last night we thought it would be fun to make raviolis. I am always amazed at how food and art can merge, and then, after all that preparation, it’s eaten and it’s over with. Spending time in the kitchen with my family, for me, doubles as entertainment, and it’s a tangible way to express love--and this doesn't cost anything at all, yet I couldn't put a price tag on it if I had to.

Flour water salt and eggs (from our neighbor Cynde) filled with some ricotta and mozzarella cheese, and viola! —Christy Korrow

Photos by Chris Korrow

Poem: Tenth Rune

Tenth Rune

Dawn will bring none but
another cold morning.
Gray cast bears little light to
shine on trees, naked,
in search of lost leaves.

North winds comes, he blows
the white breath from heaving horses
until it disappears through
moss-covered branches.

Thorns of berriless brambles
snag your gown, twist below
and ensnare your footfall.
Blood drips from pin pricks
around your ankles,
pain not felt for want of warmth.

No bird seeks fire in December’s
dark days. Shiver of furry beast
raises heart’s heat
when to drink there is only ice water
from a frozen pond.

Many men marching, held captive
by the sound of their own footsteps.
Sound of footsteps spelling out
demise, counting out a row of
graves, winter’s sleeping dirt disturbed.
Their anxious breath exhaling fear.

Cold is cold when rain turns to ice
as it catches on boughs,
reaching down with such sharp tines
growing heavier with nightfall.

Closed eyes in warm bowery
hear only crystal clear snaps
as innocent limbs are felled
whose strength is no match
for winter’s weighted cloak.

—Christy Korrow

Rosie and Wind

Gabe asked me to spend some time with Rosie while she was away in Cookeville, cleaning for my parents and taking a Saturday workshop in contemporary dance. Rosie is her two-and-a-half year old filly, and is now in a separate pasture from our two other horses, her mom, Lucy and our gelding, Ollie. Gabe said it was time to wean Rosie (short for Rosie Cotton, named after Samwise Gamgee’s wife). So, now, separated from her horse family only by a fence line and our driveway, Rosie is anxious and lonesome. I walked down to give her a carrot.

From the far end of the field she whinnied and came walking over to take it from my hand. The wind was blowing her mane and banging the loose piece of tin on our stable. She took the carrot, gladly, and stayed with me at the fence while I brushed flies from her face, scratched the side of her neck, and told her that this separation was only temporary. I think she understood.

Rosie understands a lot more than most of us. She was born in the field just down from our well. We call it the Well Pasture. She was born on Gabe’s 13th birthday, March 21st, just a hair before midnight.

Gabe has a special touch with horses, communicates with them using few gestures, and even fewer words. She calls their names and they come running, like in a Walt Disney movie. There is an empty chair in the bamboo where she goes to meditate. Large Chinese poll bamboo, not native, an almost twenty-year-old patch, now a small forest. Inside of it you feel clean, still and orderly. I walked through on my way to give Rosie her carrot.

Near the pasture gate there is a puddle, shallow, filled with last night’s rain. I walk around it, and wonder if it is clean enough to drink from. Probably two-hundred years ago my body would have had the correct bacterial balance to tolerate such fresh water as this. Now I only avoid it, and wonder how long it will take to soak into the ground.

The same wind that blows Rosie’s mane is drying the clothes on the line. The best kind of weather for laundry day. Each tee-shirt, panty and pair of jeans becomes a Kentucky prayer flag, carrying our gratitude and wishes across the treetops, and northeast to the Appalachians. I hope they make it over those mountains, all the way to the ocean.

Two Poems

These were conceived at a recent poetry workshop Gabe and I took with the most awesome Rachel McKibbens. –Christy Korrow

She Lived There

In the town of rejection
the old maid is buried in the garden
with weeds for a headstone.

Family stories were wiped clean
with a bloodstained handkerchief.

Cars drive backwards,
and anyone with secrets has
been cut out of the portrait.

Sign reads: No Trust Allowed




The Attic

Ghosts leave no footprints on stairways.
Air doesn’t move and neither does the dust.
Windows locked tight with dried paint,
any sunlight that tries to enter is
blotted out by the unwashed glass.

Boxes behave, unaware of their own contents.
Stacked silent, cardboard makes equal
old treasures and junk that should have been
sold at yard sales.

Kaysha's Dolls

Kaysha added new dolls to her website, and she has also added the affirmation fairies.