Lifescapes

What grows around goes around...

 
I blogged recently about cedars (Ashe junipers) and their importance in our Hill Country ecology. But it is definitely true that we have too much of a good thing, as you can see in the background of this photo. Because everyone in this area suppresses grass/brush fires, there's nothing to control the spread of cedars. So we do a fair amount of cedar chopping here on our 31 acres: trimming branches and removing young trees. (Lots of people around here use goats for this purpose. Some folks even rent flocks of goats as brush-clearers.)

But trimming/cutting trees results in huge piles of stuff, as you can see in the foreground of the photo above. We can let it lie (fire hazard), burn it (C02/particle pollution), or mulch it. We do burn, but once a year, the two of us plan a mulch party. Here's Bill, ready to go to work with the rented commercial shredder.

And here's Bill, with the result of about an hour's work with this mechanical monster: 

We (yes, I helped--physical work is good for the soul and the body) produced five truckloads of this stuff during the five hours we had the machine. The mulch is destined for the paths and spaces between the raised beds in my vegetable garden, for areas around some of our trees, for some of the flower beds, and for erosion control in some pasture areas that were previously overgrazed. When we first moved out here 25 years ago, we bought a small gas-powered chipper/shredder and used it heavily to clear brush along the creek and in Bill's pecan orchard. Okay for regular maintenance, but for big jobs like this one, the commercial shredder is definitely worth the money.

Book report. Other than chopping and mulching cedar, I've been working on Cat's Claw. The Pecan Springs books are always a challenge, but this one feels even harder, because Sheila Dawson is a main character and she's a police chief. So I'm creating a small-town police department (with all its inherent political/gender issues), describing the procedures she uses to investigate this particular crime, and so on. Luckily, I have a wonderful consultant on guns, Rhonda Esakov, who "arms" my characters with the latest in firepower. (Here's a blog post she wrote that not only demonstrates her wide/deep knowledge of guns but also demonstrates her strong reading skills.) Cat's Claw is about 65% finished (in terms of the number of words) and I have a pretty clear idea of where the book is going. But I need to go back to the beginning this week and work forward. This is where the writing really starts being fun.

Promoting books. It's that time of year when I have to start thinking seriously about book promotion. I'll be doing a blog tour again this year for Mourning Gloria. If you're a blogger and you'd like to host one of my posts, go here for details. I'll be traveling in Texas this year--the calendar will be available later this week. Hope to see you at one of the events!

Garden report. The soil temp in my raised beds is around 50 degrees and getting warmer by the day. This week, I planted spinach, carrots, radishes, lettuce (several varieties), kale, chard, and peas. The last freeze date is about eight weeks away, so I've started a couple of dozen tomatoes (Porter and Small Fry) in a flat on a heat mat. Next week, eggplant and peppers. When they've germinated, they'll go to the grow-light stand. The garlic is up, ditto the dill and fennel I planted last fall. Lovely to be digging in the dirt again!

What I've been reading the past couple of weeks. Police procedurals by Jeff Parker and Michael Connelly (some of the best fiction I've read recently--thanks to my brother John for his recommendations); Storms of My Grandchildren, by James Hansen; World on the Edge: How to Prevent Environmental and Economic Collapse, by Lester R. Brown; and rereading Deep Economy: The Wealth of Communities and the Durable Future, by Bill McKibben.

Reading note. You can’t be optimistic about the state of the world — what you can be is open-minded. You’re going to look for solutions, and you’re going to make your own life mean something. You can no longer think that accumulating money or the biggest house is the answer.--Joan Dye Gussow

Cedar: In bloom this week

According to news reports, the most serious hazard in Texas this week is an epic blizzard of cedar pollen, produced by the tiny orange cones on male trees. (The female trees produce blue berries, used as a flavoring in gin and in meat cookery, especially venison.) "Cedar" is the local name for these shrubby evergreen trees, which are found all over the Hill Country: more properly, they are Ashe junipers. But whatever you call them, they can make you uncomfortable, if you happen to be allergic. To hear the way the media and the medical industry tells the story, you'd think that this suffering is universal, but it isn't. Bill and I are among the many Texans who live with these trees without ill effects.

In our part of Burnet County, the weekend's rainfall (a little over a half-inch in our rain gauge) washed most of the pollen out of the air, but until then, the trees were "smoking"--the only way to describe the orange pollen the junipers produce on a windy day. The trees are also known for producing nearly rot-proof wood that is useful for fenceposts: here at MeadowKnoll, we have several miles of fence that was put in back in the days when "cedar choppers" cut the trees for this purpose. Junipers were also cut for charcoal, which was used in heating and cooking in the days before the dams on the Highland Lakes began to produce the electricity that completely changed the way people lived in this area. And--to offset their unhappy effect on humans--the trees contribute a great deal to the environment. They've gotten a bad rap, as Pam Price points out in "Give Cedars a Break", and while there's no denying the discomfort they can cause some peole in December and January, they're an important part of the Hill County ecological system, Humans have a bad habit: we want to get rid of the parts of nature that bother us, get in our way of our real estate developments, or cost us money. To my way of thinking, junipers, like other "nuisance" plants and animals, deserve respect, not destruction. If you're allergic to cat dander, you don't advocate killing all the cats. Do you?

Book report. Speaking of cats: Cat's Claw is going well--about 40,000 words, out of around 85,000 for the book. Sheila is an interesting character: there's a lot more to her than I suspected. That's one reason I enjoy writing series books. No matter how much you think you know about the ensemble that appears throughout the series, there's always something new to learn.

Garden report. I have my seeds and my spring garden plan. All I need to do now is to take enough time from the writing to get the seeds started under lights. Tomatoes and peppers, maybe this week, also a couple of rows of early carrots. The seed potatoes (Reddale and Yukon Gold, from Wood Prairie Farm in Maine) are sprouting, getting ready to go into the ground on Valentine's Day.

Reading note. God has cared for these trees, saved them from drought, disease, avalanches, and a thousand tempests and floods.  But he cannot save them from fools.  ~John Muir

 

China Bayles Herb Quiz

The China Bayles' Herb Quiz series is now in its third week. This week's quiz is open Monday Jan 24 through noon Wednesday Jan 26. Win an autographed, personalized copy of Mourning Gloria and be eligible to win the grand prize. Test your knowledge of herbs (don't despair, we help you with hints) and be a winner! (Post updated for Quiz 3)

Heading home from the mountains

A neighbor took this, after a recent snowfall. The snow is gone now, and there won't be any before Monday, when I'm driving home to Texas. We came the week after Thanksgiving. Bill left just before Christmas, so I've had three weeks to myself, to write, read, indulge myself--priceless time for me. I wrote about the need for private time in Together, Alone: A Memoir of Marriage and Place (out in paperback February 1). Bill finds it necessary, too, as his own renewal. We're looking foward to being together again--very nice, after being married for nearly 25 years.

I'm going home with good work done. One-third of Cat's Claw (the 2012 Pecan Springs mystery). A couple of knitted scarves and one nearly-complete sock, with good intentions to finish that sock soon. Viewed three seasons of West Wing--and I'm still learning new things from it about character development, dialogue, pacing. Read about a dozen books, most as background for Cat's Claw. But most of all, I've enjoyed the mountain wilderness that rims the little valley below this house, the birds and deer and turkeys and coyotes, the long walks with Molly, the snow, the sweet silence.

Back home, I'll be starting seeds indoors for the spring garden, completing the book (by the end of March), gearing up for the April publication of Mourning Gloria, and helping to launch a big Story Circle project (more later on that). Fun, interesting stuff, and I'm looking forward to it. But to tell the truth, I couldn't put out all that energy if I didn't have a wilderness place that restores spirit and energy and puts me in closer touch with a world that is not made by humans.

Reading note, one of the quotations I used in Together, Alone: We go to wilderness places to be restored, to be instructed in the natural economies of fertility and healing, to admire what we cannot make. We go in order to return with renewed knowledge by which to judge the health of our human economy and our dwelling place.--Wendell Berry

Faux fire

When we bought Coyote Lodge in 2004, we knew we wanted a woodstove in the main living area, not just to warm the place but as a hearth for the heart of the house. But somehow Bill and I never got around to buying and installing a stove. There was the problem of running a stovepipe up about 25 feet and through the roof. There was the problem of fuel, which would have to be purchased and trucked in by local woodcutters. (We have a LOT of wood back home in Texas, but it seems a little ridiculous to haul it out here for burning.) Then one of us would have to carry the firewood upstairs and the ashes back downstairs for disposal. None of these are insurmountable problems, of course. But somehow we never got around to surmounting them.

And then I saw this neat-looking, very realistic stove in a catalog, with an electric "fire" and a small heater. The next weekend, I saw the very same stove at Home Depot. Figuring that the universe was trying to tell us something, I lobbied to buy it. Bill turned up his nose at the idea of faux fire (especially when we have SO MUCH firewood in Texas). But he finally gave in.

So that's the backstory behind the little stove you see in the photo. Looks real, doesn't it? Especially with those aspen logs piled beside it, and that red teakettle Peggy Moody gave me for Christmas. Certainly looks real to me. I'm happy that it doesn't smoke or require tending, and when I'm ready to call it a night, I flick a switch. Happy not to tote firewood upstairs and ashes downstairs. Happy just to toast my toes, enjoy the flickering light of the "flames," and pretend that it's entirely real. (And yes, I realize that it "burns" electricity, which is mostly produced, here in NM, by coal. But there's probably a tradeoff between the greenhouse gasses produced by the burning coal and those produced by burning firewood.)

A faux stove with a fictional fire. Somehow seems to fit.

Reading note. Firelight will not let you read fine stories but it's warm and you won't see the dust on the floor.--Anonymous, undoubtedly a woman

Here's to You, Mom

Today is my birthday--a special day for me, at the beginning of this brand new year. But it's also a day I celebrate my mother. I've posted a tribute to her on Story Circle's new blog, One Woman's Day. Do check it out.

The moment of birth, the beginning, requires patience, implies progress. You are not alone.–The I Ching

Mountain morning: 2011

First day of the new year, in a place I love. The sun rimming the mountains with pink, the air crisp and very cold (-2 when Molly and I left for our walk), the valley below filled with snow. A wonderful mountain morning, a wonderful beginning to 2011.

Bill and Toro went back on the 20th and I've been here for almost two weeks by myself, with just Molly (our heeler) and the cat for company. Shadow has been sick (a throat infection, the vet said) but she's finished her course of medication and her appetite is recovering.

This is Molly's first experience as an only dog, and she's thriving. She's a great deal more focused than she is when Toro (the other heeler) is around--fewer distractions, I guess, and a stronger routine: fewer interruptions. I tend to be a creature of habit myself and always get more done when I'm by myself.

Working on Cat's Claw now, the Sheila Dawson book (in the Pecan Springs series): almost 30,000 words in the last few weeks, so I must be doing something right. The novel has a strong central plot and familiar characters and the story is pulling me along. I love it when that happens: feel like I'm watching a movie and taking notes, while the actors do all the work.

I had Christmas dinner with friends up the mountain--Mike and Rosi are great cooks, so we had a feast. Neighbor Bob came down for supper with me this week. I made his favorite rice pudding with nuts and raisins for dessert and he took some home with him. Ray (a local cabinetmaker) came to measure for the built-in desks we're adding to the kitchen.

Other than that, no company. And no holiday partying for me (I came here to be quiet), although I've been spending evenings in the West Wing. We have the DVD set of the series and I have never had a chance to see all the shows, from all the seasons, in order, uninterrupted. It's a pleasure to see the growth of the actors, writers, the whole crew. Loving it.

The year ahead will be busy: two books to finish by mid-year, a big, new, and exciting project for Story Circle (more about that later), and maybe another book project (a collection of essays) in the fall--haven't decided what I want to do with that yet. I want to spend some time out here next summer, and again next winter. Hoping for ordinary days, full of good work to do, family and friends to love, animal companions to enjoy. Hoping the same for you, too, wherever you are. Here's to 2011.

Reading note. I am grateful for every 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 elderly cat, whose last season this likely will be . . . Going on is, after all, the ultimate pleasure of our lives.--Maxine Kumin