The current needlepoint project is nearly done--just the left border to finish and a few loose ends to tie up. This has been the perfect companion in the evenings, while I enjoy the Olympic games. I need to start thinking about a mat/frame for this, something very simple, since the pattern is so busy and vivid.
The fall garden is underway: tomato seedlings (Porter again) and sweet peppers are just sprouting under lights. In another week, I'll plant cucumbers, summer squash, and beans in the garden. The grasshoppers are bad this year, and the squash bugs, so while the weather may cooperate, the pests may be a challenge. But you never know until you try, right?
On the writing desk: Wild Rose, my novel about Rose Wilder Lane and the writing of the Little House books. I've finally settled on a structure and voice (two important choices) and am working on the manuscript every days now. I've had this project in mind since 1992, when I received a pre-publication copy of William Holtz's excellent book, The Ghost in the Little House: The Life of Rose Wilder Lane. I began doing research for the novel then, but life (and many mysteries) got in the way. It feels very good to be working on it in earnest now, aiming to finish by the end of the year.
Fans of the Little House books will be pleased by the publication (by the South Dakota State Historical Society Press) of "Pioneer Girl," the story of Laura's life which served as the source manuscript from which the eight books of the series are derived. Pamela Smith Hill is annotating it with references to Rose's various typed versions of the text, as well with the books themselves. I've read and studied "Pioneer Girl," so the annotations will be the most interesting part of the project. If you've enjoyed the books, you'll likely recognize the "story kernals" that were expanded to create them. But you may be surprised when you get a look at Laura's "native" style, which is nothing like the polished style of the books. That, as we know now, was Rose's work--that, and the fine narrative shaping of her mother's material that turned the raw stories into memorable literature.
If you're not acquainted with Rose, here's a little taste of her, from a letter she wrote to her dear friend Dorothy Thompson (recently married to Sinclair Lewis) in August, 1929. She is describing the house she is building (you may know it as the Rock House) for her parents, at Rocky Ridge Farm:
I am building a house. Houses are my vice; without houses, who knows? I might have been a writer. I am my own worst enemy. I can't take houses, or leave 'ema lone. This house is a five-room English cottage (anyway, rather English) which shall--Inshallah!--be all that both my father and my mother have wanted in houses. It's building on another part of this farm, and when, if ever, it's done, they shall live in it. I then inherit this house which will no doubt be remodeled from foundation to ridge, and as soon as that's done, Allah be merciful, I'll depart for Cashmere, Samarkand, California, and the mountains of the Meddite.
All of Rose's life was a conflict between staying put and reaching for the far horizon. In that, she was a very modern woman.