The drought has been hard on the roses, even the heritage roses, which are better adapted to hot, dry weather. But this American Beauty keeps on keeping on, bless her. She is dangerously thorny but the fragrance of her blossoms is alluring. Lovely, lovely on a cool spring morning.
Book report. It's been a busy week, filled with lots of publishing chores. The Darling Dahlias and the Texas Star will be out in September, and A Wilder Rose follows in October--two book in two months is a challenge. The publisher (Penguin/Berkley Prime Crime) pretty much takes care of the Dahlias, but since I'm the publisher of Rose, I get to do all the fun stuff myself. I finished cleaning up the manuscript after the copyeditor was done (lots of tinkering) and worked on the Reader's Companion (more about that later). Sherry Wachter (my cover artist) and I made some more adjustments to the cover, and Peggy Moody (my webmistress) and I worked on the book's website. It takes a village, and I'm grateful to all my helpers. I couldn't do this without you, gals!
Garden report. A strong cold front blew through midweek, and I was afraid for the tomatoes. But while the low temp set a record (38), it didn't quite get to freezing. The beans are up, the peas are producing (fresh raw peas in salad, YUM!), and there's still chard and kale. I've planted summer squash; when it's up, I'll interplant okra in the same bed. Today, I'll plant melons.
We've had a little rain, just enough to produce a good crop of spring grass for our cow, Blossom (this photo was taken last winter). But the soil is very dry, the drought monitor tells us that we're in "extreme" drought, and the Highland Lakes are only 39% full. Day-to-day, we're okay. But in the longterm, it's a dangerous situation.
Spring events are posted here. Fort Worth in two weeks, St. Louis next month. But I really need to be writing! I have a new writing project to tell you about--maybe next week.
Reading note. What keeps you going isn't some fine destination but just the road you're on, and the fact that you know how to drive. You keep your eyes open, you see this damned-to-hell world you got born into, and you ask yourself, 'What life can I live that will let me breathe in & out and love somebody or something and not run off screaming into the woods? --Barbara Kingsolver