The rain is returning, at last--over eight inches for September, five for October. This is a photo of Ripple Run, which in previous years has been lined with ferns and bog-loving plants. The plants are gone now (maybe they'll be back in the spring?) but Ripple Run is flowing again, happily and musically. The water is still brown with oak-leaf tannins but the silt and mud have settled out. Sheer delight. It's been cool but not chilly and no frost predicted: the grass is spring-green and lush. We moved the cows onto the pasture we've been saving for their winter feed, and they're eating full-time, delighted with a green menu, after lean rations this summer. Amazing to me: the quick recovery of the native grasses. The turkey-foot bluestem is fruiting just now, and the seed heads are heavy and ripe. A beautiful sight--and if there are decent rains this winter, a promise of future bounty.
A hugely busy week last week, beginning with a talk to the University of Texas Press Advisory Council, then book talks with author/naturalist Susan Tweit at Texas State University in San Marcos and Texas Christian University in Fort Worth, the Texas Book Festival on Sunday, and a Story Circle Be Our Guest program with Susan last night. Saw so many old friends, met some ones, and enjoyed every minute of it. All of these author appearances are connected with the publication of Together, Alone, my new memoir. There are two more events in the next two weeks: Wimberley library on Saturday 11/7 and Mason library on Sunday 11/15. After that, I'm taking some time off. Bill and I are going to New Mexico, and to Colorado for Thanksgiving with daughter Robin and her family (including, of course, the newest member, Jasper!).
This week, I've written a guest post at womensmemoirs.com, about using your journal as a means of documenting your life and as a "research document" for a memoir. Please check it out and leave your questions in the comment section. The questions will be the basis of an interview that will take place on Friday. It'll be available via the magic of podcast. Thanks to Kendra Bonnett and Matilda Butler for inviting me to participate. They do a wonderful job with that website, and offer a very helpful service to women who are writing about their lives.
And here's something new for you: the Darling Dahlias website! Peggy and I have been working on it in our spare time (what's that??) with help from accomplished flower artist Peggy Turchette. It's still early days yet, but people have been asking about the series (not due to be published for another nine months), and I wanted you to have something to look at in the meantime. Over the next few months, we'll be posting some additional material, so bookmark it and drop back in from time to time to see what we've been up to.
Reading note. I think with a kind of awe that no human being has ever made a permanent home on this particular spot on the globe--Bill and I are the first. But that doesn't mean that this place has no history, or that the land has not been used and changed by humans. Its unimaginably long past is written in layers of limestone rock, in tree rings, in th e arrow points chipped by Indians passing through, in rusty cowbells and the marks of wagon wheels on rock. Everything has a tongue. Everything speaks. To hear it, I have to be patient, and still, and silent.--Together, Alone: A Memoir of Marriage and Place.