I'm 59 years old today,

And I have barely learned how to be 40. 

At 40 I was making my big move off the island to the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. 

I had one restaurant behind me and two in front of me. Two chapbooks behind me, and ahead- two more chapbooks of full-length book of poetry and three books of memoir and fiction. 

I have lost a lot; my father, relationships, beloved dogs, health. I've gained a wife, new friends, more dogs.

Some things equal out. Others never can. But with loss, if you're lucky, comes knowledge. And the ability to more fully appreciate what you have, the will to hang on tightly to what is important.

I've been staring at this page from dark through just dawn to now the full light of early-morning, trying to shape my thoughts, trying to fit all my gratitudes into neatly contained sentences.

It's not going to happen. There's been too much good in my life in just the past two weeks to possibly fit on this page. Because if I've learned anything in these 59 years I've learned it's the little things, the day to day of a blooming fruit tree, an old friend reconnected with, the smell of honeysuckle on a walk with an old dog –

those thousands, millions of small moments that make up each day, each year, each life, that must be cherished. 

These moments, this now,  that I can so easily  let slip by in my push toward major achievements, events that may never even happen, or if they do, might not live up to my high expectations.


It's what I don't expect that can most thrill me, that flash of red caught from the corner of my eye, the unexpected scent of low tide carried on the wind, the sound of a long forgotten accent. All this, and then some.

Hey -

Happy birthday, world. Thank you for the flowers.

i'm pretty sure you can never have enough . . .

pictures of happy dog butts.

I bet that was not how you expected that sentence to end. Although if you have known me long this is exactly the kind of comment you'd expect me to make.

These pups may be getting on, but they are still happy to be doing something they love.

You know who else is happy? These kids.

Yellow Brick Road preschool

I read to them last week. I also read to Earthsong Montessori but I didn't get any pictures there. Sorry, Earthsong. Guess you don't get your fifteen minutes of fame. At least not from me. 

In all, I've read my silly sea poems to over 80 kids in the last two weeks.

True, some of this was shameless self promotion. But it may have worked. We sold a ridiculous amount of books before and during the signing on Saturday.

Bruce Macdonald looking dapper and artistic, and me in my hammerhead shark shirt.

me looking dapperly authorish

I don't know where most of you were, but you missed a swell time.

The book, looking appropriately bookish.

Also the fish inside are gazing longingly at the baked goods.

 You cannot see this but I could have shown you if you'd been there. Your loss.

I’m pretty sure . . .

preschool had not yet been invented when I was a child. Or if someone had invented it, they had not strapped it into a car seat and driven it into the hills of east Tennessee. 

Of course I am ancient enough that no car seat would have been needed.  They could have tossed preschool into the back of an open truck and hauled it over the state line.

But I digress. 

The point I was driving at (isn’t it amazing how I continue to extend the metaphor even as I correct myself) was that there was not even the whisper (or perhaps I should say faintest of fumes?)of preschool in my town  in my formative years. I am absolutely sure of this because if there had been anything even remotely resembling it my mother would have enrolled her daughters as the first test cases.

Look how I even managed to include a female parental unit reference in honor of mother’s day.

this is me and my mom. I am not reading her my book. i just thought you'd like the picture.

Why have I used all these words just to introduce the subject of preschool?

Well, because last week I went to preschool.

And I liked it so much I am going again this week. To a completely different school.

And maybe I will go to yet a third school before week’s end.

If you are asking yourself the perfectly reasonable question why, (and ignoring the hecklers in the background whispering that I have finally found my peer group) let me just say that I love reading to children and interacting with them. And sitting on the floor listening to a four year old relate the entire plot of Finding Nemo until my knees lock.

Okay, maybe not the last part.

See, I wrote this book of silly poems called Washed Up in the Waves about the sea and its creatures. And somebody swell  (Bruce Macdonald) illustrated it. And somebody also swell (Mariner Media)  published it. And now I am hawking it shamelessly.  

And, most kids in the age range it’s written for need to have the book read to them.  Preferably again and again, using all the different voices. (You gotta use all the different voices, people.)

Hence the trips to local preschools. (plus, I just like reading to kids. It’s a flaw)

By the way, did I mention I have a book signing Saturday the 14 at the Bookery in  beautiful downtown Lexington, VA?

What a coincidence, huh?

Life is funny that way.

"But, Margo," you cry, "I live too far away to make it to your signing-"

Despair not. I have a simple solution to your problem.

Log onto www.margosolod.com  

Then wander over to the shop page and buy the book, hit the special instructions tab and tell me how you’d like me to personalize it.

It’s almost like being in VA in the springtime. Only without the pollen.

Here’s the shameless self-promotion part-

BUY THE BOOK, PEOPLE!  From me,  from your local bookseller,  from Amazon or Barnes and Noble. Order in bulk from www.marinermedia.com.

Because if you can’t take your child to the beach, the next best thing is to bring the beach to your kid.

this child is actually in florida. but she loves the book. her favorite is the clam poem.

And because I asked nicely. I was brought up right. Even without preschool.

It’s my first overnight stay . . .

here at the cabin since we opened it up from its winter hibernation. 

I would’ve been up here sooner but as usual, nothing good comes without a price. This season, apparently the price is going to be paid to the plumber. It took us a month to get someone up here to look at the pipes and fix the winter's damage. And now the pump has stopped working. 

Once again I am reminded how integral water is to life. Or at least, how integral running water is to a nice couple of days up here at the cabin.

Aside from the water problem, it is as quiet and peaceful and astoundingly beautiful as it has always been, with 17 bazillion different shades of green playing a constantly changing visual symphony around me.

As the trees slowly leaf Big and Little House Mountains disappear behind them.

Soon the cabin will be encircled in a fortress of green and the mountains won’t reappear until late fall.

Sitting here on the porch, drinking my early morning tea I can hear the wild turkeys calling, and nearby there’s a woodpecker going crazy on a rotten tree. And a hundred other sounds fade in and out as the creatures go about their morning ways. 

There doesn't seem to be anything as insistent as the mockingbird in our yard in town who cycles through her entire repertoire at the top of her little bird lungs every morning, perched in the lilac just outside the living room window. She even drowns out the weed whackers and lawnmowers that seem to go from dawn to dusk every day from the beginning of March to the end of November in town, although she can’t hold her own against the life flight chopper or the ambulance sirens from the nearby hospital. Or the cacophony of police and fire engines screaming through town.

On the other hand, there are no mice in the house in town and when you turn the faucet on the water comes out without having to go down to the cistern and pump it up the hill. 

Or not pump it up the hill, so you have to call the pump guy to come out and replace a worn-out machine that’s just tired of shoving water 300 feet through a 1 inch black plastic pipe for the past six or eight years. However long it’s been since we last replaced the pump. Not that he's going to come out on a Sunday morning anyway, no matter how beautiful it is up here.

It’s always something up here, a constant struggle against a space that was perfectly happy before we took over and attempted to tame it.

 

The spring ran just fine at the bottom of the hill before we captured it, forced it into confinement in a cistern, rammed it into a pipe and sent it upwards against gravity.

The woodpeckers found plenty of dead trees to knock against before the cabin was built, although I am sure they appreciate the bounty of carpenter bee larvae seemingly stored just for them in our eaves, waiting for them to drill out each spring.

The mice had plenty of surfaces to run across before we provided them with our counters, and even the ants probably managed without us somehow. 

The only thing I’m not sure about are the wild turkeys. I can’t imagine how they could possibly have conducted their courtship every spring without me, sitting bundled up in the cool dawn light, paying rapt attention.

Youse guys . . .

are NOT paying attention.

I has this book, see? 
And it swell, be.
Youse can have it free
as a book-e.

All you gots to do
is write a line or two.
Don't even need to be you,
your kid can write one too.

www.storycartel.com
I tell you, it's da bomb.
Sign up your dad and mom,
even your uncle Dom.

I need stars and reviews,
like them to come from youse,
and in return, you see,
you get some poetry
a tiny piece of me
and absolutely free.

www.storycartel.com

Do it. Do it now.

Tank youse.

And you can click on this,
give amazon a miss,
Barnes and Noble too
all of the giants who
take half of each sale. True
and sometimes even more. 
Or, visit a local store.
But if you go through me,
I'll sign your book for free,
give you a discount too, 
dedicate it to you. 
www.margosolod.com

Psst . . . Hey, guys-

Want a free e-copy of my new book? With pictures and everything?

Here's how you can get one and help me out at the same time-

https://storycartel.com/

Go there. Sign up. It's free. 

All you have to do is post a review afterward. They even show you how to do it.

And it's not just my book you can get for free. They have hundreds of books in all genres, all available for download to your computer or e-reader or phone.

Although of course you should read and review my book first.

If you read it to yourself you don't even have to use the silly voices.

And did I mention it's free?

Of course, you also want a real copy to hold in your hands. And you want it autographed and personalized. And you want it at a discount. If all this sounds like exactly what you want-

 http:/margosolod.com

Hit the button. Buy the book. Tell me what you want me to write.

Oh, that the rest of your life could be this simple.

I am reminded . . .

Almost daily by the gods of the book of face that it has been almost two months since my last blog post, and that ever so many people are, apparently, dying to hear from me.

Partly, I blame winter, as we closed the little cabin in December and I seem to find it easier to blog when I am in the woods.

My new book is also to blame, for how many times can I announce, I’m writing a new book! And I think it’s good! And now I have finished the first draft! And now I have finished the second draft! And now I am checking for typos! And now I am revising! before I begin to sound tiresome even to myself?

But now spring is coming. And the bush who shall not be named

(at least by anyone we know so far) is alive with bees,

a fine portent of good weather to follow. 

And we all know that in spring a young man (or woman)’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of sea creatures.

Well, yes. You read correctly. Sea creatures. Or to be more precise, birds and fish and mammals and crustaceans and others of that ilk.

Do you need more hints? Have you not been paying attention? Shall I stop beating around the proverbial kelp stalk?

My new book! Silly sea poems for kids! Illustrated!

Now I know I've mentioned this a time or two before, but perhaps it's gotten lost in the incessant clamoring I've been doing about my new new book. 

This is my newest to be published book.

Here's a taste:

We are oysters, him and me,

we live in a community

of hundreds which we calls a bed-

We have soft bellies which is said

to be the food that's gods were fed.

(there's more, but that's all you get for free)

And it is coming out in less than a month. April 11, to be exact.

And you can order a copy here: www.marinermedia.com/booksite

Or you will be able to purchase it through your local bookseller or on Amazon or Barnes and Noble.

And you can even get it as an e-book.

I am telling you people, it doesn't get much better than this.

I haven't worked out the details of putting books on my website so that you can purchase directly through me and I can personalize it, but I am working on that.

Or, I will be, soon.  Because right now, you see, there's this new book I'm working on . . .

In the meantime, have a very happy vernal equinox.