Back to the story . . .

When last we left our heroine, she was waiting-

To keep from going crazy that first week I sketched a rough outline of changes that needed to be made in books two and three.

The second week I swore off writing altogether and read thrillers, 

 took long walks with the dogs,

 and pretended to be social. I hadn’t gone anywhere or seen anyone for more than a brief hello for the past month.

Except, of course, for my sacred Wednesday clamming date with one of the Paul’s or with Arnie. I freely admit it, I am a clam slut.

 I will with go to Nashweena pond any Wednesday with anyone who has a boat and is willing to go at low tide, whether it be 6 a.m. on a foggy cold June morning or a scorching noon in August.

But I digress. I digressed a great deal during those weeks.

I made lists of other publishers who might look at the book without an agent.

I made lists of people I knew who might know agents who might look at the book.

I made lists of things to be done once I got back to Virginia. And lists of dog breeds I liked, and old friends I hoped to see again.

Books I wanted to read. Sheet and towel colors.

I read more thrillers, and worked on the second book in the series.

Finally, what seemed like thousands of years later

but was actually about three weeks, ( I can digress a tremendous amount in three weeks), I received a reply.

Brandylane would like to see the rest of the manuscript.

I think it took me four minutes to attach the book and send it back.(three and a half minutes were spent jumping up and down.)

I won’t make you wait again. They accepted Coyote Summer for publication.

Then the real fun began.

It's raining lightly

And that’s something the dogs don't seem to understand is an excellent excuse for postponing our morning walk.  They sit at the bottom of the stairs, gazing expectantly upward.  I can feel their eyes through my office door.

Rain, even a light rain, is a blessing for those of us who garden. I make the attempt, as I have every year for the past fifteen, since I have owned my own small patch of dirt, to connect with the earth.  In some places, I admit, it is control as well as connection, as I try to shape small areas with colors and scents that please me.

Mostly, I want a personal, visceral connection to what I eat. There's quite a bit of connection actually, considering how small the garden is, and how little of my food it actually supplies.  

But it's not about that now as much as it is about the fact, the realization, that most everything in that garden grew from seed I planted, tended, watered, and watched over.  I've yet to tire of watching a seedling push through, seeing a pea tendril or bean vine wrap itself just so around a branch I placed for just that purpose.

I have several pairs of garden gloves that watch me from the fence I placed them on to dry sometime in April.  I can't remember to put them on because I want the feel of the earth sucking the moisture from my hands.  I want the calluses, and the permanent stains under my nails from black dirt.  They are badges of honor in the world I strive to belong to.

The land I cultivate now is a fraction of what I started with when I first came to Virginia.  I had grand designs of a garden that would feed us through the year, of orchards with fruit and nut trees, wild food gathered and placed in gardens within easy reach.  I built 8 inches of rich black soil on top of land scraped to red clay by builders.  I planted blueberries, elderberries, apple and pear trees; scoped out wild raspberries and blackberries and patches were edible mushrooms grew.

young apple and pear trees

But it was too much.

It had always been too much for me physically, and although I knew that I kept pushing.

I've always done that, pushed beyond my limits.  What I'm starting to learn is that my limits are changing.  Not only starting to learn, but starting to accept that fact.

We live in town now, and the section of land I tried to bring under control is miniscule.  Most of the hard work was done by the owners before me, who left me vines and bushes, trees and shrubs fruiting and mature.

mature blueberry plants!

concord grape vine

asian pear tree

ripe gooseberries. I have always wanted to grow gooseberries.

 I'm two thirds steward and maybe a third builder.  My empire of abundance is managed by someone else now.  

But that’s cool, most of the time. Because I put the same love and care and intensity in to my tiny garden as I did my huge one. I’m realizing that it’s not about how much dirt I have, it’s that I have dirt I can plunge my hands into.  And I am starting to believe I really can get the same amount of enjoyment and peace from any garden I can connect with. I'm learning to be okay with what I have.

I’ve a small something else I’ve grown from seed, in a manner of speaking.  I’m referring, of course, to Coyote Summer.  I have an acquaintance from college who has a book that’s garnered national attention. 

 Sometimes I look at his posts on Facebook about already being booked for the whole next school year for personal visits,

I read the reviews from major newspapers, and I’m jealous.  And yet I don’t begrudge Chris his awards.  He works hard, harder than I ever could at publicity.  I couldn’t begin to attempt his schedule.  He has a big book, with a big publisher, and he’s earned it.

I have a small book with a small publisher and a small amount of energy.  This week I’m not talking in front of six classes of schoolchildren.  I’m talking to a small local book club.  And you know what?  I’m finally learning that’s what I can do.  And it’s enough.

I know, I know. Mea culpa.

It's been almost a month.  And besides informing and amusing you, this blog is supposed to keep your interest so that every once in a while I can subtly slide in a plug for my new book.  Which at this point happens to be Coyote Summer.

buy the book, buy the book.

Okay, that's done.

I have no real explanation except that it's spring, and I am in a new house, and that means a new garden, and an actual yard, both of which entail a great deal of physical labor.  Which, at this point in my life, is not my strong suit.

So instead of writing I am playing in the dirt.  

And doing some promotion and publicity.  Nothing compared to Chris Grabenstein 

http://chrisgrabenstein.com/kids/newsletter-6-14.html

Author Chris Grabenstein

chrisgrabenstein.com

Wow! The book is already a New York Times best seller, an Agatha Award winner, a Nerdie award winner, and nominated for all sorts of state book awards.

who shames me daily on Facebook, but some.

None of this would be possible without help.  I have an amazing law student helping me with my book promotion, doing all the computer things my hands cannot.

And we have most wonderful caretakers, an old friend from my college theater days who I had not seen for thirty-five years.

dick and dr d replant an almond that got too big for its britches

 He and his wife have moved into the cabin and are caretaking our beloved property.  We went to dinner there this weekend, and it was an odd feeling, sitting in a dining room that had once been ours.  But they have made the house and land a part of themselves with so much love

the "veranda"

that I can almost be all right with leaving it.

Almost. It's always going to hurt.

But I have my new yard to play in, and my tiny garden.  And my friend and I have accomplished many projects,an amazing arbor

dick exiting arbor, stage right

for (hopefully) kiwi vines, and capturing the cherry pie tree

and the blueberries

so they cannot run off.  You would think that the fence would be enough to keep them in, but honestly, think about it.  If you had three dogs peeing on you, wouldn't you want to run?

especially these dogs

Anyway, the world is now safe from fruit. and the birds, let me tell you, the birds are pissed.

The dogs have moved on to more proper city dog pursuits, like telephone poles and even the occasional hydrant. 

And me? I am moving on. I am. I'm just a bit slower than my dogs.
<div id="goodreadsGiveawayWidget94374"><!-- Show static html as a placeholder in case js is not enabled -->
<div class="goodreadsGiveawayWidget" style="max-width: 350px; margin: 10px auto; padding: 10px 15px; border: 2px solid #EBE8D5; border-radius: 10px;">
  <style>
    .goodreadsGiveawayWidget { color: #555; font-family: georgia, serif; font-weight: normal; text-align: left; font-size: 14px;
      font-style: normal; background: white; }
    .goodreadsGiveawayWidget img { padding: 0 !important; margin: 0 !important; }
    .goodreadsGiveawayWidget a { padding: 0 !important; margin: 0; color: #660; text-decoration: none; }
    .goodreadsGiveawayWidget a:visted { color: #660; text-decoration: none; }
    .goodreadsGiveawayWidget a:hover { color: #660; text-decoration: underline !important; }
    .goodreadsGiveawayWidget p { margin: 0 0 .5em !important; padding: 0; }
    .goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink { display: block; width: 150px; margin: 10px auto 0 !important; padding: 0px 5px !important;
      text-align: center; line-height: 1.8em; color: #222; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold;
      border: 1px solid #6A6454; border-radius: 5px; font-family:arial,verdana,helvetica,sans-serif;
      background-image:url(https://www.goodreads.com/images/layout/gr_button4.gif); background-repeat: repeat-x; background-color:#BBB596;
      outline: 0; white-space: nowrap;
    }
    .goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink:hover { background-image:url(https://www.goodreads.com/images/layout/gr_button4_hover.gif);
      color: black; text-decoration: none; cursor: pointer;
    }
  </style>
  <h2 style="margin: 0 0 10px !important; padding: 0 !important; font-style: italic; font-size: 20px; line-height: 20px; font-weight: normal; text-align: center; color: #555;">
    <a href="http://www.goodreads.com" target="_new">Goodreads</a> Book Giveaway
  </h2>

    <div style="float: left;">
        <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21488413"><img alt="Coyote Summer by Margo Solod" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1400638505l/21488413.jpg" title="Coyote Summer by Margo Solod" width="100" /></a>
    </div>

    <div style="margin: 0 0 0 110px !important; padding: 0 0 0 0 !important;">
      <h3 style="margin: 0; padding: 0; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal;">
          <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21488413">Coyote Summer</a>
      </h3>
      <h4 style="margin: 0 0 10px; padding: 0; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">
          by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/857995.Margo_Solod" style="text-decoration: none;">Margo Solod</a>
      </h4>

      <div class="giveaway_details">
          <p>
            Giveaway ends June 16, 2014.
          </p>
          <p>
            See the <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/94374" style="text-decoration: none;">giveaway details</a>
            at Goodreads.
          </p>
      </div>
    </div>
    <div style="clear: both;"></div>

      <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/enter_choose_address/94374" class="goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink">Enter to win</a>

</div>

</div><script src="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/widget/94374" type="text/javascript" charset="utf-8"></script>

So I just got back

from a week in New England, and considering that it’s been forever since I wrote a new blog I really should be working on one. Instead, i find myself using those precious pre-dawn hours when no one but me is awake

(well okay the dogs are awake, but just barely, drowsily awaiting their walks) 

catching up on posts from Jenny Lawson (a.k.a. The Bloggess), watching videos of dancing dogs, and reading articles from the Guardian that my aunt sends me. 

Oh, and free cell.  We mustn’t forget free cell.   I use it as a sort of mental barometer. If I can’t win a game of free cell I should just go outside and play in the dirt but not attempt anything more complicated than that.  Or cook something.  I can weed or plant things or cook with approximately 1/3 of my brain working.  But everything else should be put on hold.  

This is all to explain that since I have returned from New England where everyone is reasonably well and the island of Cuttyhunk 

(which is so suspiciously similar to the island in my book Coyote Summer) has obligingly remained much as I left it, I’ve had a serious attack of the shoulds.  

I should be promoting my new book. 

I should be working at setting up readings, getting the book into bookstores and libraries, probing my friends for addresses of places to send promotional material, harassing people who have read the book into reviewing it on Amazon, or at least giving it four stars.  Five stars of course are preferable, but I want to allow you a little latitude so it doesn’t seem like I’m pressuring you.  

And mostly, I should be writing a blog post.  There’s a problem, though.  

There are lilacs blooming outside my office window.  My strawberries are flowering. 

My basil and nasturtiums need to be hardened off,

my sunflowers, carrots, and beets need to be planted.  

and this poor little guy. what about him?

Need versus should.  I should be promoting my book.  I need to have my hands in dirt. 

before

after

i was just kidding 

So this is what you get: ramblings with no real purpose and a little announcement at the end. 

I have a reading and book signing at Books and Company here in  Lexington, Virginia on Saturday, May 17.  11:00 a.m. Suitable for both children and adults.I
There will be cookies.  And I would so like to see you there.

If you give a dog a walk . . .

Spring returned this morning after three crazy days of heat, and I was actually able to wait till after 8 a.m. to walk the dogs. Took the camera this time, so this shall be a rather pictorial blog. And yes, spellcheck thinks that’s a word, so it is.

what are we waiting for?

The dogs are extremely happy to be walking, after a day of rain and no walk. An acre and a half of yard and woods invisibly fenced off for them to run in, and they want to walk with a human. I think we’ve taken this domestication thing too far.

 lets go!

mandy shows off her new hair growing back. (it is, i insist it is.)

the stream is running full

 chance inspects the storm damage

we are #247 on the list for cleanup. or maybe 237. it's hard to keep track.

 the pink guy shows up every year down by the creek. i just love him.

some bird planted this. haven't seen it before on the road. birdscaping. nice touch.

now this is a happy dog.

 the first mayapples

i swear, there is something exciting here!

brave bug needs a drink. walking is hard work.

come on, i know it's steep. but at the end is breakfast!

the end. (with pansies)