Field Trip to Dorland Mountain Arts

Writers' retreat in the Temecula hills

(Hm: writers' retreat in the Temecula hills or writers retreat to the Temecula hills?)

Today marked the first time I’d visited the Dorland Mountain Arts retreat center in Temecula, California. I’ve known about Dorland for, I don’t know, two decades?

I had a five year old and a two year old, so the idea of a retreat sounded heavenly but impossible. I dreamed of going, but sometimes the possibility of someday turns to never after a devastating 2004 fire burned it all to the ground.

Thankfully, they were able to rebuild.

For those of you who have been ignoring the news, there have been been many fires on the rampage throughout the western portion of the United States this month, and several in our Southern California region.

The Line Fire. The Airport Fire. The Bridge Fire. The Coyote Fire.

I picked up Janine at a quarter to nine this morning and together we headed to Temecula, our writer hats precariously balanced atop our usual Inlandia admin hats. On the way up, we talked about our book projects in progress and how eager we were to check out Dorland. We didn’t hit any traffic at all. That is, until we were less than a half mile from the turn off, at which point we noticed flashing lights. Uh-oh. We both speculated aloud about what it could be. An accident? Or, gods forbid, a fire. Traffic was backed up but there were uniformed young men directing traffic and soon we were waived through. I gave it no further thought and instead turned my attention to beautiful chaparral. (Later we learned it had in fact been a mercifully thwarted fire.)

We pulled in and there were cars parked on the shoulder of the narrow road. I followed suit. We got out and made friends with others who had also just parked who seemed to know where they were going. Soon we were seated outside with a couple dozen other writers and artists in folding chairs beneath a pergola.

We were there for Coffee on the Deck. This is a monthly gathering of creatives from the community; the public is welcome. I wasn’t sure what to expect but I’d packed my laptop in at totebag and at the last minute grabbed dog-eared reading copies of my last two books. Janine and I both brought notebooks. I knew there would be sharing involved, but I had no idea what that would look like.

After a brief poetic invocation a special guest was introduced: a woman whose husband had been in the Pentagon on 9/11. She also brought a small piece of the Pentagon. Everyone who had been there that day had been given one. I wish I could say that it felt imbued with some special significance but it was unremarkable in my hand, save for the fact of its origin. (Although its shape reminds me of a folded flag.)

Then the art-sharing started.

There was a lot of visual art from the community and just a couple other writers, one who is a Seattle-based writer there enjoying a residency. She read a knockout section of a work in progress about giving birth. Another poet read a poem inspired by Attar’s The Conference of the Birds. And then I read my What to Expect: The Teen-Age Years poem. Janine and I then took off our writer hats briefly to talk a bit about Inlandia programs and hand out info cards. I’m hoping we can someday get an Inlandia Writers Retreat going. There are only five cabins so it would have to be a very small group. I’m excited about the prospect though. I’ve been looking for a reason to get myself down there for a residency, though sadly I missed the deadline for AULA’s inaugural Alumni Circle Dorland Arts Prize.

Next year, Cati. Next year.