Seams Like a Story

June 15, 2026June 14, 2026

A Morning at the Lavender Farm

An Artist’s Date

Tucked away in the countryside surrounding the town of Oracle, about an hour’s drive north of Tucson, is one of Arizona’s hidden gems. This spring, when temperatures in Arizona were still tolerable, a friend invited me to sign up for a wreath making class offered at Life Under the Oaks Lavender Farm.

On event day, the mid-June forecast was for triple-digit weather. “Oracle will be a few degrees cooler, due to its higher elevation, plus, this is when the lavender will be in full bloom. We can’t miss it! It will be a few degrees cooler in the higher elevation. Bring a sun hat and water–we’ll be fine,” my friend said.

Arriving early for our class, we had plenty of time to visit the gift store where “all things lavender” were sold; shelves stocked with soaps, wreaths, and lavender-themed gifts.

Following the path to the lavender fields we strolled through a fairyland of antiques and unique garden art : a weathered wooden cart filled with freshly cut lavender, a heart-shaped sculpture made of aqua glass and stone, an aqua iron bench under the shade of a tree, a lavender-hued wringer-style washing machine.

Small groups of visitors sat around shaded picnic tables to sip lavender lemonade and nibble dainty lavender cookies. In the field, neatly planted rows of lavender waved amethyst-studded stems, sending wafts of fragrance our way.

When it was time for our class to begin, we gathered under a 300-year old Emery Oak tree, known as “Five sisters” in honor of its five connecting trunks. Carolyn, our workshop leader and owner of the farm, grouped us around tables set with grape-vine wreaths and bundles of fresh-cut lavender stems.

She demonstrated how to attach small batches of the blooms to the wreath using bits of wire, showed us some examples of wreaths she had made, then turned us loose with ribbons and dried flower accents to fashion our own creations.

While we worked, Carolyn relayed the story of how Life Under the Oaks Lavender Farm came to be. She was drawn to this place because of the oak trees, and thought lavender might do well here. The land was wild and had to be cleared and tamed, “sometimes with a machete,” she said.

Carolyn went on to say that often, as wives and mothers, we focus on our families. It was time, she felt, to do something for herself. This was her dream, her passion, turned into reality. It is obvious she enjoys sharing the land with others. Bit by bit the farm is growing. A barn and new bathroom facilities were recently added, with plans for a greenhouse in the works.

For me, this morning on the lavender farm provided an opportunity to express myself in a completely novel way. Unlike creating with words on a page, this medium was visual, tactile, even olfactory as the aroma of lavender permeated the air. An “artist’s date” my friend remarked, referring to the term Julia Cameron uses in her book “the Artist’s Way” to describe a block of time set aside to nurture one’s creative consciousness.

“Artist’s date!? Oh, I haven’t used that term in ages!” I said to me friend.

I was long overdue.

Threads of Thought

Have you taken yourself on an artist date lately?

You should!

Books by Debra VanDEventer: Out of the Crayon Box Until Italy

Your next read starts here!

June 1, 2026June 1, 2026

Notes from the (Writer’s) Forum

the author sitting on a tiled staircase before the writers forum begins

When writers gather…

Forum:

A physical or virtual meeting space, platform, or medium designed for open discussion, debate, and the exchange of ideas on specific topics. (Originating from Roman public squares)

The Meeting Space…

Tubac, a town in southern Arizona (once the capital of the Arizona Territory) greets visitors with a sign: Tubac: Where Art and History Meet.” A few months ago, the director for the Tubac Center for the Arts invited me to join a panel of four local authors to discuss the topic “From Idea to Page.” I was honored to be included in this event and excited to have the opportunity to showcase the art of writing.

The Center is located in a beautiful, historic building that serves as the hub of the thriving Tubac artist colony. With over 3,500 sq feet, the center acts as a venue for artistic expression and includes a gallery, performance stage, art library, and gift shop. It is well worth a visit!

When I arrived the director escorted me to the library, a cozy room with bookshelves and comfy leather chairs. The room was set up for our panel discussion with a long wooden table in the front of the room for the authors, a couple dozen folding chairs , and snacks for the audience. Each featured author displayed a few of their books in the back of the room.

Let the Forum Begin…

I put on my Italian, lemon-themed apron (former kindergarten teacher here…I love a good theme) and took my seat at the author’s table. I took a few moments to silently rehearse the section of my book “Until Italy” that I’d be reading from to calm my nerves, I’m always nervous at the start of an event . My good friend and fellow author David Davis was seated next to me. We joked that maybe our spouses would be the only ones in the audience, but by the start time most of the chairs were filled and we had an enthusiastic audience (At least they were smiling, that’s always a good sign.)

After introductions, each author told a little about their author’s journey, then read a passage from their book. I was last to speak. When my turn arrived, I took a breath and with my best teacher voice (hamming it up on the humorous parts) I read a section from the chapter “How to Drink Limoncello.”

An Exchange of Ideas

A lively Q and A session followed the readings. Many in the audience were writers or aspiring writers curious about the panel’s writing and publishing experiences. Two women smiled and nodded in agreement when I mentioned that Julia Cameron’s Book “The Artist’s way had influenced me to write a book and become a self-published author.

One man wanted to know how to get someone publish his books. Each of the four featured authors shared their thoughts on traditional publishing, hybrid publishing, vanity presses, and self-publishing. Here is what I said:

“Of course we all want to get a big publishing contract and make lots of money,” I laughed. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get a rush when I sell a book. But I think that if that is your only goal for writing, you are going to be disappointed. I write because I have a story to tell and I publish my books or blog or magazine articles because I want my stories to reach others.”

At the end of the session we mingled with the audience and answered a few more questions. I was at the snack table helping myself to a bottle of water, when a woman approached with both of my books in her hand. She’d liked my presentation and thought she would enjoy my stories. She was a fellow artist , a painter, whose work was displayed in the Center’s gallery.

Did I get rich that day? Maybe not in the usual sense. But I have stories to tell. And someone was excited to read them.

Threads of Thought

What creative endeavors do you peruse?

What motivates you to be creative?

Find you next read here!

May 18, 2026May 18, 2026

Ziplining over New Zealand

When you get a chance…

In my previous post, Dance, I said (paraphrasing a popular song) that when I had the chance to sit it out or dance, I hope I danced. Little did I know that a month later, I would get the chance to fly! Here is my journal entry from a day in the life on my recent trip to New Zealand!

Saturday, April 11

It was an optional activity, and when our trip leader asked who wanted to go ziplining I said a timid maybe. I’d seen the videos on the Canopy tours site and, truth be told, it terrified me. Our trip leader encouraged me saying that in her experience many people had the same trepidation as I did, but when they came back from the experience, it was one of the highlights of the entire New Zealand trip. I took a deep breath and said yes.

After the Canopy Tours van picked us up from the hotel, we met at their office where we signed a waiver (agreeing that we realized there were some risks… such as falling from a great height. Yikes!) ,got weighed (evidently there is a limit to how much the tethers can handle), and were fitted for our harness that was to be our life line (literally). We drove to the forest, then walked through the amazing virgin timber of Rotorua to get to the first platform.

Along the way, the guides pointed out interesting sights, blue and red mushrooms, giant silverleaf ferns, tall pines.The silverleaf ferns are significant and the symbol of NZ. They are above-head height with beautiful and elegant fronds. The underside is silver and reflects light in the dark. There is a legend that when the Maori people were forced to evacuate their homes, they left a tail of fern fronds so that when illuminated by the moon, it would leave a trail for others to follow. The smell of wet, dark soil and the sound of soft footsteps on the leaf covered trail mixed with the jangle of the heavy-duty equipment strapped to our sides

.As we climbed up to the first platform my heart pounded. The guide attached The first person, and off they went. When it was my turn, I held my breath as I looked down as I stepped from the platform. I was a little shaky, but when I sat down into my harness, I felt amazingly secure. The Guide called to the guide from on the landing platform “ Debs on!” And off I went!

It was Exhilarating!! Flying fast above the treetops, I laughed out loud. My landing was a little rough, but the guide was there to pull me up onto the platform. Once there, we were tethered onto a cable to ensure we didn’t fall off. 5 more times we zipped. Probably the most terrifying part was walking across the two suspension bridges, strung high above the forest floor with no handrails. But we were tethered to a line above our heads. The last zip was in the dark, after the sun had set.

My trip leader was right. It turned out to be one of the most amazing parts of my trip to New Zealand. I’m so glad I didn’t sit this one out. I danced, I flew! If you ever get the chance, don’t sit out…ZIP!

Threads of Thought

Tell about a time when you stepped out of your comfort zone and were glad you did!

You can find more adventures in my books OUT OF THE CRAYON BOX and UNTIL ITALY. Click here!

March 23, 2026March 22, 2026

Dance

Every Tuesday, I lace up my tennies and go to the community center for line dancing class. I’m a beginner and sometimes I lindy-hop when I’m supposed to grape-vine or I end up facing the back of the class when everyone else is facing front. But no one cares!

Coming of age in the 70s with the Beatles, James Taylor, and Carol King, I never considered myself a fan of country music but as soon as the sounds of “Boot Scootin’ Boogie or “A Bar Song” pulse through the room, my hips start to sway and my feet can’t wait to frolic around the floor. It’s sooo much fun!

Full disclosure: I have some dancing background. My mom signed me up for ballet and tap dancing classes when I was maybe six or seven years old, the thing suburban mom’s did before the days when girls were allowed to do sports. I learned to plie’ and releve’ and shuffle-ball-step, but it never went much further than that. I tried out to be a dancer in my high school’s production of My Fair Lady and the drama teacher selected me as an “alternate.” If someone had broken a leg I would have had my dancing debut. No one did. Oh, and I took modern dance and folk dance classes in college to fulfill my PE requirement.

My granddaughters are dancers. Michaela was a member of her high school’s marching band color guard and now competes as part of an independent dance troupe. When Lillian attended an introductory Irish dance class as a young girl, she fell in love. She now jigs and reels in competitions and exhibitions all over the country. And Melanie cranks up her favorite Disney tunes and dances with wild abandon around the house.

This Christmas when I was visiting my son and his family in Atlanta, I talked them into going to a bar that featured line dancing. I’d had several months of class behind me and wanted to test my skills out in the wild. Arriving early, the place wasn’t crowded. I recognized a few songs and ventured out on the dance floor with Lillian and her boyfriend and the boyfriend’s little brother. We danced and laughed and had a ball. As the evening wore on the “real” dancers showed up in their spangled jeans and midriff tops and boots and fancy steps. I was soon out of my league and relinquished the floor, but I’m glad I had put myself out there. For a few glorious moments, I was a line dancer!

On my way home from my dance class this week, the radio was playing Lee Ann Womack’s song “I Hope You Dance.” I cranked up the volume and belted out the words as the ending lines filled the car.

“When you get the choice to sit it out or dance…I hope you dance.

I hope you dance.”

Of course, the song isn’t literally about dancing, but it challenges the listener to take a chance, get off of life’s sidelines and live. See the world, smell the roses, fall in love, “never take one single breath for granted.”

I think about times when I could have done something, but I pulled back. For fear of looking foolish, or thought I wasn’t good enough, or didn’t have the time, or money, or thought something else was more important, or I didn’t want to get involved, or I thought it would be too hard, or it was easier to sit back and let someone else do it, or….(fill in the blank) I wonder what I might have missed along the way.

Now, when I get the choice, I hope I dance.

Threads of Thought

Go to your playlist and find ” I Hope you Dance”. Turn up the volume and sing along. Now go out and do something for the pure fun of it this week!

author holding two books, Until Italy and Out of the Crayon Box

(When not dancing, I may be writing Find my books here!)

March 2, 2026March 2, 2026

Daffodil Days 2

This time of year, I’m obsessed with daffodils. Maybe it goes back to my Midwestern roots. I spent most of my life in southern Indiana where winters are cold, drizzly, and gray. During winter, the glorious deciduous trees of autumn are bare and stark, the luxurious green lawns of summer are brown and muddy, and cabin fever rages.

It was the worst time of year for those of us in the teaching profession. The period between winter break and spring break seemed to go on forever. Indoor recess had lost it’s charm, students were restless, and teachers were weary.

When my husband and I moved our family to a house in the woods, the kids and I planted daffodil bulbs on the hillside behind the house. Each dormant bulb held the promise that spring would come. We couldn’t wait to see the first green shoots springing up form under the leaf mulch in the woods. When the hillside burst into bloom, we knew winter days would soon be gone. Each year, I would gather a large boquet and bring it inside.

the authors grandmother in a field of yellow tulips

Daffodils remind me of my grandmother. They were her favorite flower though she called them jonquils. I like to call them that too, though purists say they are both in the Narcissus family, however there are slight differences.

But what’s in a name? My grandmother’s name was Josephine Marie. She preferred to go by Marie, but allowed Grandpa to call her Josie . “..a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

Currently, I live in the Southwest. There is an abundance of wildflowers blooming in the desert this spring, but sadly, no daffodils grow here. I was thrilled when a friend brought me a bundle of of spindly little stems in pre-bloom stage she’d purchased at Trader Joe”s. As per her directions, I snipped off a half inch from each stem and put them into some water.

Now, my kitchen counter is glowing with yellow blooms! I know they are short-lived, but for now I am enjoying the burst of spring, the reminders of Grandma, my Indiana home, and the end of winter.

But I think it’s deeper than that. Perhaps , for me, these bright yellow blooms bursting from dormant bulbs and spindly stalks give me hope and courage. Their blooms are fleeting. Their message lingers.

Threads of Thought

To those of you still in the throes of winter, hang in there! Spring is coming! Watch for it!

Click here for your next good read!