Mining the Past
Carolyn J. Rose grew up in New York’s Catskill Mountains, graduated from the University of Arizona, logged two years in Arkansas with Volunteers in Service to America and spent 25 years as a television news researcher, writer, producer, and assignment editor in Arkansas, New Mexico, Oregon, and Washington. She has published a number of mysteries and lives in Vancouver, Washington, with her husband, radio air personality Mike Phillips, and a motley collection of pets. Surf to www.deadlyduomysteries.com for more information.
Writing Hemlock Lake gave me the opportunity to construct a setting by mining my impressions of the place on this earth where I grew up. It gave me a chance to close my eyes and recall the days when life seemed to move at a slower pace, responsibilities were few, and dreams were abundant. As I turned the pages of my mental photo album, I was sometimes surprised to discover what I’d stored away, and more surprised to see that the colors were still vivid, my emotional reaction still strong and deep.
Perhaps it’s the childhood sense of newness and the thrill of discovery that makes my memories of the Catskill Mountains so powerful. Those ancient slope-shouldered mountains, the remnants of an eroded plateau, were fresh to me. Fresh, too, were my experiences especially the sensory banquet of a day in the woods—the crackle of snow crust, the sound of the wind soughing through the pines, the distant thunk of an axe striking heartwood, the rustle of brilliant leaves, the gurgle and splash of a stream, the texture of red clay, the scent of damp moss.
I am 3000 miles and half a century from that place and time, but the past often overtakes and overpowers me. Like bubbles from the mud at the bottom of a pond, images rise to the surface of my mind, clear and sharp.
It’s spring and I see the silvered edges of retreating snow, bright with melt water. The Sawkill runs high, stained the color of rust by red clay torn from its banks. Rocks tumble and rumble in the current, clashing and grating. A day of sun and the air is heavy with the scent of lilacs and wild azalea. Violets bloom among sodden leaves, a dappled fawn totters into a meadow, and a grouse explodes from a clump of ferns.
Summer lumbers in with sodden heat that builds to thunderstorms sweeping down from the ridges. Lightning rips bunched clouds and echoes retreat up the hollows. The woods yield treasure—lady slippers, Indian pipes, and spangled 
salamanders. Tangled grapevines weave a canopy and the air beneath smells of mildew and ozone.
Autumn paints a sky almost too blue to be believed, a kaleidoscope of leaves in crystal air. Frost silvers the dying grass with final splendor, bending Queen Anne’s lace and goldenrod to its will. The orange Hunter’s Moon swells above the skeletal limbs of trees stripped by the wind.
Winter stalks beneath an opal moon cushioned on gauzy fog. The smell of wet wool and pot roast fills the house. Ice rimes the windows and we nestle beneath flannel sheets and down comforters, listening to the furnace digesting the logs split and shoved between its gaping jaws.
Recalling how all of this had shaped me, I considered how it would shape my characters. Some found the setting to be all the world they needed; others, like my protagonist, loved the mountains, yet longed to experience other places and to escape the social constrictions of the town I built for him.
There were times when the process of writing Hemlock Lake conjured recollections that spawned raw emotions—love, loss, shame, and regret. Unlike the experience of writing my earlier novels, especially the comic cozies co-authored with my husband, this was not always a walk in the park. But it’s a walk I’m glad I took.
July 23, 2010
Posted in: Guest Blogs
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3 Responses
I love your description of the Catskills, Carolyn–one of my favorite places on earth since I went to Bard College. Ancient, slope-shouldered remnants–that is great. I’m reading this from the Pacific NW, so I feel the being 3000 miles away thing, too. Nice to have your series…
Hi Jenny –
I’m encouraged that you referred to it as a series. I’m at work on a second book now. For years I didn’t think there was another story, but the characters seemed to want one.
Carolyn, thanks so much for being my guest and for sharing your memories. As a reader, there have been many times when an author’s words have brought back remembrances for me.
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