Susan Palmer's Exquisite Now

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  • Close observation: There’s a workshop for that

    Close observation: There’s a workshop for that

    I thought I knew this plant, the vine maple. It’s the great autumn showoff in the forest understory, bright yellow to orange to red. Because I learned its name early in my hiking days, I assumed it was an actual vine and when you see it all scraggly under towering spruce and fir in the Pacific Northwest, a vine doesn’t seem wrong. So imagine my surprise on a recent walk in Eugene’s Hendricks Park when this tree-sized version sent a sweeping branch out into the path. Is that? No, couldn’t be. But, yes.

    Wikipedia explains that Acer circinatum, is a many-stemmed shrub-like tree. I had never stopped to give it full attention before. Here’s what else I saw on this fine mid-May outing: the tiniest of flowers tucked among the bright green of new leaves.

    How writers get to noticing is by slowing down, stopping and looking around. While it sounds easy, getting to “easy,” takes practice. And time. Also, curiosity.

    In June I’ll be teaching a writing workshop on noticing. We’ll play with three techniques that help train the noticing part of the brain.

    It’ll be four hours of word play. Writers at any stage are welcome, whether you’re writing for an audience or wanting to make your private journal richer.

    Join me June 20 at Wordcrafters for The Practicing Writer. Register here:

    The Practicing Writer

    Photos by Susan Palmer

  • Pause, turn around, be surprised

    Pause, turn around, be surprised

    Photo by Susan Palmer

    Our last night in London, we had run out of steam. We’d packed in a full touristy day, then ridden the ferry by Westminster at dusk and walked the square. We were headed for the hotel and packing, and a big day of train travel to Paris the next morning.

    I don’t know what made me stop, breathe a moment, then turn. Turning around gave me the view of Big Ben and the London Eye.

    Sometimes it’s hard to give yourself a moment, especially at the tail end of a long day, especially with must-do tasks waiting. But it’s these surprise views that linger long after that make me keep packing my bags.

    Photos by Susan Palmer

  • Soft cuttings make new plants

    Soft cuttings make new plants

    My mother-in-law, Helen Cherry, had a special love of roses. The family farm where she was born and raised west of Salem, continues to be alive with her roses many years after her passing. And now we have one of her roses in our yard, too, thanks to the simple technique of soft stem cuttings.

    You take a cutting from the plant, a bit of new stem that’s still pliable and green and with a little TLC it will develop roots and become its own fine specimen.

    The rose in the top picture started life as a stem cutting from a rangy grower in Helen’s garden. I clipped it seven years ago, while she was still with us and sharing stories of life on a 100-acre dairy farm nestled along the Willamette River. Having one of her roses in our garden is a felt connection to the farm and to her.

    All it took to grow that rose was patience, a clear plastic take-out container with a lid, a bit of dampened soil, some rooting hormone and time. I punched a few holes in the plastic lid so the plant could breathe, set it on a window sill for a couple of months, and the roots formed. Another couple of months later, it was large enough to pot up, and a year after that it went into the ground. Now it’s well over six feet tall and wide. Life finds a way, doesn’t it?

    Every spring when the first pink sweetheart roses begin to bloom, I think of her, her great energy, her funny stories, her family photo albums that always evoked memories.

    The plant in the container is a gardenia I started in October 2024, Eighteen months later (this is the patient part), the gardenia start looks like this. It’s about ready to go outside.

    Photos by Susan Palmer