The roses are beautiful. Not perfect, as you can see, a little browned and wind-burned along the edges of the petals. (But who among us is perfect these days? Aren't we all a little storm-tossed and war-weary?) The wind, rains, and high humidity have been hard on the blossoms, but they are still very lovely, the best bloom I've seen since I began gardening here. The shrubs and climbers are a cheerful, cheering sight.
I almost never get the chance to say this, but there is such a thing as too much rain. The lake is full, the creek is bank-high, the ground is saturated, and the mile of bad road that we share with about 15 other families (unpaved, and maintained mostly by Bill, with the help of one neighbor) is getting worse. If we get more rain, we'll have to park the little Civic and drive the four-wheel. I'm not complaining, mind you. Rain is rain, and we'll take what we can get. But it would be very nice if somebody turned off the switch and turned it back on again, say, around the middle of July.
The floors are clean (well, mostly), the laundry is done, the books are all shipped (thanks for your patience!), the mail is answered (sort of), and I'm eager to get back to writing. Peggy and I (and Peggy Turchette, who does the art work for the Beatrix Potter books) have been remodeling the Cottage Tales website and will be ready to relaunch next week sometime. It will have a super new look--something that Beatrix Herself would be pleased with, I think.
But first, one more trip. Bill and I are going to D.C. I'm doing two library programs with Linda Lear and a panel at Malice Domestic, one of the major annual mystery conventions. Bill is visiting family. The weather looks good, so it should be a great weekend. And next week, I can get back The Tale of Briar Bank, which I started before I left on tour. I can't wait.
Reading note. I never quite believed that one chance is all I get. Writing is my way of making other chances.--Anne Tyler