Tuesday, June 30, 2015

It’s almost unbearably . . .

green outside today. 
A brilliant, verdant green with more shades than you could possibly imagine even as it is dazzling your eyes.  From the dark, shadowy green of the young pear tree leaves to the shiny, almost neon green of the light coming through the poplar leaves outside my window.  And the greens themselves change their hues as the sun slips in and out of the clouds.

I’m at the cabin in the woods and it’s been raining for the last two days in thunderous pouring cloudbursts that last for hours.  It’s a jungleish tangle out there, vines seemingly reaching out to trip me as I walk.  I can smell the green.  There’s no other way to put it.

I spent an hour this morning trying to tame one tiny patch around and in the old asparagus bed.  At the rest, I can only shake my head.  It’s too far gone to be rescued by anything less than a professional company.  The grand experiment is no more.

I’m tempted to tear down what’s left the fencing and let the deer and the rabbits have at it, then raze what’s left to the ground and open the landscape back up.  The trees and bushes will survive the deer, or not.  Let it be out of my hands.

But I can’t quite go there yet.  I’ve put in so much time, so much energy.  The gardens need to be worked. This land needs to find its new right person.  There’s a fit out there somewhere, a perfect fit.  Someone who wants this place as much as it needs to be wanted.

So instead I wander the boundaries, picking wild blueberries and searching out the first of the ripe wild raspberries.  There’s going to be a good crop along the mile of driveway.  And all this rain has popped out the coral chanterelles on the muddy bank they favor.  They are barely more than pinhead sized this morning, but by the middle of the week when I come back for the first of the raspberries, they’ll be big enough to pick.



And my book, the one my publisher declined, well, that’s starting to get a bit of new life around the edges as well.  Maybe it’s the deluge of requests for Coyote Summer that you guys sent out to your local libraries.  Maybe it’s the slight but definite increase I’m seeing in sales on Amazon.  Maybe you haven’t done anything yet, but just the fact that you thought about it has caused a stirring in the space/time continuum.  Perhaps it’s all of the above.  But I’ve been clearing out some old negative energy, making some space.  I’m going through and taking those steps I hadn’t bothered with when I had a publisher: chapter outlines, a synopsis, a cover letter.  I’m going through those first three sample chapters with a fine tooth comb I would’ve left to my editor.

I’ve put too much work into this new manuscript.  It’s done.  It might need a little pruning around the edges and there might be a fair amount of general cleanup inside.  But I’m not ready to raze it to the ground.  Not yet.  Somewhere out there is someone who wants this book.  I just have to put it out to the universe.

under a tree
moss on a log
moss on creek stones
and then there's the creek itself
 
new growth ferns
seedlings