Lifescapes

Jason's tam

A few weeks ago, my grandson Jason left a comment on my "Blue Daze" tam post, saying that he'd seen my tams and coveted one of his own. (When was the last time your grandson asked for a tam?) After some back-and-forth emailing, we settled on an orange/brown color scheme. I made one, but it was much too small (was I thinking of Jason at 8 or 9?). Finally finished another for him, just in time for his graduation next month. He's been studying to be a sound engineer--the sort of person who mixes music for concerts and recordings--and already has a job! (Who knew that all that punk rock might someday pay off?) Happy graduation, Jason! I've already cast on the next tam, although I lost track in the fifth row, wasted one whole hour trying to figure out where I was, and then--in a fit of frustration--ribbited the whole durn thing.

I'm writing (you'll find notes to the WIP on the Pecan Springs Journal), doing some housecleaning (where DOES all that stuff come from?), reading a little, and watching Ken Burns' The War on PBS. Have you seen it? I like the way the stories have been woven together, soldiers' stories, home front stories. What strikes me so forcefully about it is the extent to which everyone agreed that it was a necessary war. The US stayed out of the fight until it was absolutely essential to join it. And all Americans joined the war effort (I'm old enough to remember for myself some of what was going on in those days) because all Americans understood how important, how right it was. Our current situation stands in stark, sad contrast.

Reading note. Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and not clothed.--Dwight D. Eisenhower

A Beatrix Potter Tea Party

Thanks, Bookwoman and Susan Post, for hosting a great tea party yesterday! People came from as far away as Fort Worth, Dallas, and even Amarillo--and Austin too, of course. We looked at the film, Miss Potter, and talked about the challenges of writing historical fiction/fantasy. Lots of fun. Bookwoman hosts SCN's Austin reading circle, so it always has a special place in my heart.

For those of you who missed it, I've started posting once again over at the Pecan Springs Journal. I'll be blogging the writing process for China's 2009 book. Take a look.

Peggy and I are back on our regular schedule with the herbal eletter, All About Thyme. We're not archiving these, for a very simple reason. When stuff gets out on the web, people think it's public domain (really! you'd be utterly amazed at the way people "borrow" copyrighted material, without bothering to credit either the author or the source). I may want to include some of this material in a later book, so I'm being selfish with it. If you think you might want to read these letters again, you'll need to save them to your computer.

But I just learned that there's an error in today's eletter. (Thanks to Katherine Misegades for pointing it out.) I gave you the wrong link for the Johnny Appleseed Festival in Fort Wayne IN. It should have been this one. My apologies to all you folks in Fort Wayne. But check out the link to the Sheffield PA festival anyway--it's next weekend.

But I did get something right in this week's eletter. There's a review of a new, and very good book. I hope this will turn into a regular feature, time and energy permitting. And yes, yes, yes, we are archiving these. The first one is posted here.

Reading note. I would be most content if my children grew up to be the kind of people who think decorating consists mostly of building enough bookshelves.--Anna Quindlen

Pecan Springs Journal

In June, I started a coleus collection. A neighbor watered the plants while I was gone, and the extra rain was a blessing. They're lush and gorgeous--a cheering sight, given the state of the rest of the garden. But we're making progress there, too, and I'm looking forward to the change.

This is a short post, just to tell you that I've started posting again at the Pecan Springs Journal. For the duration (while I'm writing Wormwood) that's where I'll document the writing of the next book in the China series. Let me know what you think about that, and what you'd like to hear about the writing process. Of course, I'll be posting here, too, as usual. I'm also doing additional book reviewing--more about that later.

Reading note. People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth.--Thich Nhat Hanh

"Dad Learns a Lofty Lesson"

Forget reading my book review (previous post). Go read my son Michael's blog. I am very glad I wasn't there to watch him climb a 60' spruce tree to rescue his digital camera from the clutches of a helium balloon made out of a garbage bag. Mothers don't want to know about that sort of adventure until it's over. But I had to laugh at his report of it, and I think you will, too.

New book review

I just posted a new book review on Amazon: Loving Frank, by Nancy Horan. The easiest way to get to it is on my profile page. By the way, if you're a Story Circle member and would like to join the Story Circle review team, please drop me a note and let me know. Reviewing helps us focus seriously on what we're reading--a good way to get published, too.

Present perfect

Well, not quite perfect. A few tiny blemishes here and there--but nothing is perfect, right? I wanted to show you that there are still a few beautiful things in the garden. The roses (antiques) are mostly rebloomers, and four of the bushes are in bloom. I've had to do away with some of the climbers, sadly. But the shrubs cheer my heart. And so do the clean garden beds, soon to be leveled and sown to wildflowers. One of the beds will become a brick patio, another (next spring) will become a mulched area for plantings in large pots. My garden life has just become much simpler!

Beatrix Potter Tea Party. I've been meaning to let you know about this event, at Bookwoman, on Sunday afternoon. We're having tea and cookies, talking about Beatrix, taking a few peeks at the film "Miss Potter," and enjoying ourselves. Details here. Join us if you can, to support Bookwoman (a fabulous women's bookstore).

Books all shipped! The last batch of Hawthorn House is going out today. I'm sorry for the delay--we had more orders than books, and had to wait for a second shipment. Contest winners: yes, yours are on the way, too. Thanks to all of you who are ordering books through the website. Your purchases support Story Circle.

Pecan Springs Journal. Stay tuned for news on this blog. I'm plunging into Wormwood (China's next adventure) and about to begin regular posts to China's blog. In the meantime, zip on over to Paula's new blog, Redneck Crime. It's a hoot and a half. No, this isn't the surprise I've been promising you--the one Paula and Peggy and I have been working on. That's to come, in a few weeks. But it's worth waiting for, I promise! I'm glad I said yes when the opportunity offered itself.

It's a good week. Lots of doing (most of it fun), thinking (some deep, some shallow), dreaming, planning, playing. I hope your week is as rich.

Reading note. And yes I said yes I will Yes.--James Joyce, Ulysses

Tawanda!

I feel like Kathy Bates' character in Fried Green Tomatoes.

In the past 24 hours, I've destroyed--as in utterly--three large gardens. I've been ruthless, savage, and unbelievably heartless. Everything in those spaces is gone or going (there are a couple of rock piles for Bill to move, and a few things I'm moving somewhere else). And there's more coming, although the jury is still out on a couple of the areas. I'm sorriest about the rosemarys, most of which were 7-8 years old and five-six feet in diameter. But they were very dead, drowned where they grew. Several of the roses have to go, as well, I'm afraid. It was a disastrous summer.

But I've already downloaded the wildseedfarms.com catalog and made a list of the wildflower seeds I want to order for what will be a prairie meadow. Bluebonnets, of course. And also poppies and blue flax and Drummond phlox and paintbrush and winecups. Gaillardia, horsemint, coreopsis, standing cypress, and primrose we already have in abundance--they'll seed naturally, courtesy of the birds and the wind. Bill is happy that his mowing job has been made easier, and while I'm sad, I also feel lighter. It's time for a change here. And as my buddy Paula says, it'll be a heckuva lot less work. Thanks to all of you who have written to share your own stories of gardens lost and remind me that death and dying and loss are all part of the gardener's experience. That helps.

Fired with the enthusiasm of clean-up but forced by the heat to take a break, I'm getting to work on my office, which I have to clean up before I start serious work on Wormwood. I've brought out my stack of Shaker research materials, some plot notes I made a couple of weeks ago, and I'm getting excited about beginning the book--always my favorite time. But I somehow can never begin until all the stuff connected with the other projects is put away. So today, I'm reshelving books, tossing papers and junk mail, and (gasp!) actually sweeping the floor.

On the writing front, one very nice bit of good news this week: we negotiated the contracts for Books 6, 7, and 8 in the Cottage Tales series. I didn't actually think Berkley would kill the series in the middle (or nearly), but I've learned not to count my chicks until they're hatched and peeping. Oh, and one other nice thing: I mailed the manuscript of the memoir to UT Press. So that's off my desk, at least for a while. There's more work to be done on it, but the hardest part is over.

Tawanda.

Reading note. You will do foolish things, but do them with enthusiasm.--Collette

Downsizing the garden

                                                                                                                                                            

It has to be done. I hate it, but it has to be done! The two east gardens and the peninsula garden in front of the house just have to go. The rosemarys that anchored the space have quit, the salvias and other perennials are mostly ten years old, the daylilies and iris have gone crazy, and the Johnson grass is an invading army. Even the Indigo Spires (today's photo) has gone all leggy and floppy. These three gardens hve to come out, in favor of meadow grass and wildflowers. We've got to downsize.

So Bill and I went out today to survey the situation and make a Plan. He waded in with his weed whacker and the electric hedge clipper, I dug up the iris (some will find a new home elsewhere), and we pulled out the big rocks (you know, those decorative boulders you plant at strategic points) and borders, then raked everything up into big piles. Of course, it didn't help that the heat index was 101 degrees, but the worst is done. Almost. It's amazing what you can get done when you're motivated. It won't look like much for the next few months, but I'll sow bluebonnets in a few weeks and next spring the native grasses will fill in. It'll be lovely.

In between bouts of garden makeover, I finished the copy-edit of Nightshade and worked on the memoir notes. Oh, and Paula and Peggy and I worked on our Secret Project, which you will hear about when it is ready to meet the public. All in all, a busy day, extraordinarily ordinary.

I'm trying not to mourn.

Reading note. I am grateful for every such ordinary day, knowing that these will draw to a close somewhere beyond our seeing. I hope to go on picking vegetables, pulling bindweed out of the fields...enjoying the birds, the dogs, even our elder cat, whose last season this likely will be. . . Going on is, after all, the ultimate pleasure of our lives.--Maxine Kumin, Always Beginning

Another goodbye

Madeleine L'Engle died this week, at the age of 88.

Have you read her books? My favorite is A Wrinkle in Time, which to my mind is one of the very best children's books ever written. I loved it when I read it in 1963, the year it won the Newbery, and I've read it often since. I loved the imaginative twists, the language, sturdy, straightforward Meg, Mrs. Whatsit, Mrs. Who, Mrs. Which, who talks in a hissing wheeze of doubled vowels and consonants: "Wwee musstt ggo bbehindd thee sshaddow." What a wonderful, playful imagination, an imagination full of hope and belief. I was so lucky to find her when I was a young writer, just learning to write for children. She showed me how elegant plain language can be, and how strong the occasionally embellished word can be. I loved her work. What a treasure she was. She'll be missed.

On a happier note, The Tale of Hawthorn House is in bookstores this week. I'm signing, packing, and mailing this weekend, so if you ordered through our website order form, your book will be in the mail shortly. (Thanks, on behalf of Story Circle, which earns the profits from this book sale.)

And the copy-edit of Nightshade, next year's China, is coming along. I'm about half-way through and liking it. A complicated book. Layered. That's because it's the third in a trilogy, and there are lots of pieces of story to be tied together.

Reading note. Suddenly there was a great burst of light through the Darkness. The light spread out and where it touched the Darkness the Darkness disappeared. The light spread until the patch of Dark Thing had vanished, and there was only a gentle shining, and through the shining came the stars, clear and pure. Then slowly, the shining dwindled until it, too, was gone, and there was nothing but stars and starlight. No shadows. no fear... "You see!" the Medium cried, smiling happily. "It can be overcome! It is being overcome all the time!"--from A Wrinkle in Time, by Madeleine L'Engle

Whew

                                                                                                                                                             















We're home, to a big mess. There's no recent flooding damage, just remnants of the June and July floods and a half-dozen minor catastrophes around the place. The wild morning glory (aka bindweed) has moved into the garden, overtaking everything, even the Johnson grass! My dozen-plus rosemarys are goners, the Mediterranean herbs (lovers of dry heat) have given up the ghost, and even the native salvias are on their last legs. Surveying the damage, Bill and I have agreed that the best thing to do is wait for the first freeze (how long, oh Lord?) and chop everything down. There's nothing like starting over.

But in the meantime, the yellowbells is putting on a brave show, the garlic chives (too many to count!) are going great guns, and the turkscap is covered with tiny red blooms. I haven't had the heart to get out there with  my camera, but here, to cheer us, is a button bush photo that I took before I left. At this point, I'm grateful for all the small beauties.

I meant to blog while we were in New Mexico, but somehow just didn't get to it. Instead, I finished (all but) the memoir, painted the interior of the garage (white, over Popsicle green, so the green shows through, naturally), ordered and hung wood blinds for the whole house, painted the bathroom and the kitchen, read several good books, and watched Simon Schama's The Power of Art, which I heartily recommend--the fine companion book, as well. I apologize for ignoring the blog. I felt guilty the whole time, but not guilty enough, I guess.

Waiting for me when I got home: the rainsoaked copyedited manuscript of Nightshade, which I have managed to dry out and am working on today. (Wouldn't you think FedEx would have wrapped it in plastic when they dropped it on the doorstep?) Actually, though, this is good timing, because I need to start Wormwood next week, and I always try to read the previous book just before I start the new one. Also need to do next Monday's "All About Thyme" newsletter, and catch up with the mail. Not to mention a Big Project that Paula Yost and I have been working on--it's a secret, though. When its bloggable, you'll be the first to hear about it. Anyway, picture me chained to the desk for the next few days.

More later....

Reading note. Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted. Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden and choke the herbs for want of husbandry.--William Shakespeare, Henry the Sixth, Part II