unweaving the nest

How to Subscribe to Unweaving the Nest Weekly...and Why :)

Not so long ago I received an email from a dear friend encouraging me to take some of the things I love and combine them into an online magazine. I looked at different options, different ways of publishing, researched the securest ways to offer subscriptions. I made long lists of things I would like to share, content that would be interesting, ways to make it interactive and even ways to have give-aways for my subscribers. After lots of planning and creating I have my magazine, Unweaving the Nest Weekly.

Here are just some of the things that we will be included in the image-rich issues:

• A feature story about something that I love that I think you might love, too.
• An inspirational essay, kind of like the things I've written about here on my blog since 2007.
• "The Last Straw" last-page essay from columnist Rick Ohler.
• Guest artists, poets, writers, photographers, chefs, and just plain old great people....
• Simple recipes that I have created. Fast, fresh and made with things you probably already have in your pantry and fridge.
• Candid interviews with interesting folks I'd like you to meet.
• Reviews of books I am reading that I believe are worth sharing.
• Poetry.
• Downloadable versions of my photographs that you can print or use as screensavers.
• Links to fabulous Web sites that I have discovered.
• Links to playlists I have created...music to discover and listen to, free, from your computer.
• and more!

It's kind of like a big love letter filled with things that inspire me, make me think, and that I want to share with YOU!

It takes time to put these things together, to create a beautiful presentation of them, to write and gather. Instead of putting ads on my blog, or filling the magazine with sponsor ads, I have decided to have a subscription rate and keep it to a minimal dollar amount. It's $4.00 per month, the cost of a fancy cup of coffee...and you get it once a week, for as long as you are a subscriber. It's easy to subscribe by clicking on this link and paying securely through Amazon.com. You will be billed automatically for $4.00 per month until you choose to unsubscribe. There is a link at the bottom of every magazine to easily unsubscribe.

If you would like to refer some subscribers to me, please send me an email at kateri.ewing at gmail.com. I have a special thank you gift for anyone who refers three friends that subscribe.

Unweaving the Nest Weekly celebrated its one-year anniversary, and is now onto the second volume of 52 issues. Here is a link to the one-year anniversary issue, where many readers sent in their comments about the first 52 weekly issues: CLICK HERE.

I sure hope you'll join us.

 

 

waiting out the weather

What a load of weather we've had here in Western New York. Rain, rain, rain. Makes me feel kind of melancholy after about the fifth day, and it looks like we've got a few more days of it ahead of us. I guess I shouldn't exaggerate; we've had some dry spells in the past week...but I can safely say that nothing hasdried. And today I am home with a chest cold and the damp chill is keeping me tucked in when I'd rather be out and about.

I do love the lushness that only rain can bring though. Try to find a cushion of moss (so green that it appears luminous) at the base of a tree in Albuquerque. I'm a moss kind of girl, so I do love rain...but I'm kind of feeling that enough is enough already. 

  A wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. I think, I too, have known autumn too long.  ~ e. e. cummings 

Soon enough though, the rain will give way to snow, the lushness replaced by the revealing landscape of winter. I wonder if those of us who live our lives in a true four season location feel the ebb and flow of the emotional sides of seasons more strongly---the hopeful exuberance of spring, the fruitful abundance of summer, the slow dying off of autumn into the spare white of what can seem a very long winter. I know I do and it has an effect on the way I see things. I want to believe it's a healthy thing for the soul, to know such distinct climates of environment and spirit. I think it builds up a kind of penicillin of hope for when things get a little shaky. You start to know that when things are grim, just wait a little while and they will change. Winter always comes, but so does spring. Some people even say the best part of winter is imagining spring. I would say they're not far off, even though I can think of many other best things about winter.

It's interesting to me that the majority of my poems have been written in the winter months. Somehow, for me, the spareness of landscape and the drawing inward that comes with the colder months makes the poet in me more productive. Maybe it frees my imagination up? You know, to fill the spareness? I have not felt the need to write poetry for months and now it is beginning to come on strong again. And it's becoming obvious to me that it happens every year as sure as the day the migrant birds go missing and the sky grows dark by 5 o'clock.

It is also my time of dreaming. My desk and bedside table are beginning to pile with books that inspire, with hastily written notes in my journal of projects I hope to accomplish, but that I am just not ready to dive into yet. Oh, there are other kind of things, projects that need my attention now, but for the dreamier work of my creative self---I am holding out for the hush of snow, the long nights by the fire, the hours of aloneness I know await me. The silence and solitude of winter are for some reason my most creative time. Maybe if I lived in a more temperate place there would be a sort of balance of productivity throughout the year, but I think that the creative dry spells are necessary for me.

  My poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests. 

~ Pablo Neruda 

But all this rain...

If you think it's going to rain, it will. 

~Clint Eastwood 

There is nothing to be done about the rain. It might come for three more days whether I wish it or not. And the wish for sunshine? The sun is never so bright as when it shines on January's white fields. Just wait a little while....things will change.

 The best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain.  ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

slow down

My boy's new video. Pretty exciting stuff.

And yes...UTN has had a refresh, and I hope to be writing here again soon.

xo

 

historie

Hello out there...

I've been home, fox-hole-ing. But today something happened that I had to share. My son's band Historie released their first music video. It's called "Ride Fly" and I am one proud mama. Hope all is well in your corner of this bright and hopeful country. xo