The Tale of Briar Bank
#5 in the Cottage Tales
Nightshade
#16 in the China Bayles series
I'm posting over at Telling HerStories this morning. Click on over and join me and the other fine bloggers there. We all have a lot to say about lifewriting!
Reading note. What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open. Muriel Rukeyser
We could hear it all over the country this week, couldn't we? On Wednesday morning, we were all taking a deep breath, holding it a moment, then letting it out in a long, long sigh. It might have been a celebratory breath, or a breath of disappointment, depending on your political views. But we could all hear our collective sigh. And then another deep breath, as we thought about the seriousness of the situation we're in (yes, all of us, no matter how deep our pockets may be at the moment). And when we let it out, it was with the fervent prayer that our new president would measure up to the challenge; that he would surround himself with men and women who think deeply and speak their minds clearly; and that members of government would forget which party they belonged to and get on with the task of governing our country.
Here at Meadow Knoll, Bill and I were as deeply engaged with the electoral process as the rest of the country. We're lifelong Democrats, both of us, and were thrilled and delighted to join the crowd at Grant Park, via TV, of course. But the next morning was a new day, and a new world, and we woke up to a beautiful burst of color--the cypress trees that grow along Pecan Creek, splendid in their russet-gold autumn finery that seems to exactly express how we feel. If you've been reading this blog for a time, you know that we name our most important trees: from left, Claudia (named for a friend--Claudia, remember when?) and Freya, named for a Norse goddess.
Walking. Walking the dog (one dog now, Toro, our heeler--but maybe that will change soon) is my favorite first-thing-in-the-morning practice. Toro and I have been in the habit of circling the east meadow, where he's on the lookout for the deer that bed down for the night among the oaks and junipers along the fence. This week, though, we've been meeting up with neighbors Sharon and Susie, who live on the ridge road to the south of us and walk at about the same time, with Sharon's dog Frazier (an English cocker) and Susie's Fredrika (a Wiemaraner). Sharon and Suzie are energetic walkers, making their mile-and-a-half loop two or three times. I'm a little less ambitious: Toro and I make one loop with them and then head home for breakfast. Our loop takes us across Pecan Creek, west along the fence to the far corner of Sharon's fifty acres, south up the hill (puff puff) to the ridge road, east along the road to Sharon's lane, and north down the lane to the house. Then down the hill and across the dam at Heron Lake (the name I've given, in my imagination, to Sharon's small lake), through Owl Tree Woods (my name, with apologies to Sharon), across Pecan Creek again, around Juniper Meadow, and home. Sharon and Susie, younger than I by a big margin, walk fast, and I have to work hard to keep up. Whew. But wow, too. Toro and I are loving it.
Writing. With the election and all, it's been hard to focus on writing this week. Holly Blues is swinging along: I'm over a third done--and yes, Sheryl, there is a dead body, right about page 100. But it's an offstage body. I don't think we'll ever see it. McQuaid is also featured in this book, so he'll be doing part of the investigation while China is stuck at the herb shop and tearoom, handling the Christmas rush. (Doesn't that sound like something we'd all like to be doing?)
Gardening. Wouldn't you think the grasshoppers would be ready to call it quits? Nope. They've eaten most of the tops of my fall potatoes. Otherwise, going strong, with "messes" (as my mom called it) of snow peas and snap beans this week, and lettuce and radishes for salad. Planted more spinach, spring bunching onions, bulb onions, more lettuce, more beets. Oh, and sweet peas, which I adore. This is all experimental, mind you. My first fall/winter garden, and I've no idea how it will turn out.
Blogging. I'm over at Telling HerStories: A Broad View once every week for a while (Wednesday or Thursday, depending on the week). This is our new Story Circle blog. Join me there, and subscribe to the feed. Lots of interesting blogging there, all about women's stories.
Reading. If you haven't read Al Gore's NY Times Op-Ed piece, "The Climate for Change," do it now. Please. (If the link doesn't work, google it.) We are standing at a crucial crossroad. If we don't make the right choices now, our grandchildren and their children will wake to an entirely different day.
Reading note. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion. As our case is new, so we must think anew, and act anew.--Abraham Lincoln, quoted in "The Climate for Change."
That midweek surprise I promised you? (No, nothing to do with the election.)
You'll find it here, on SCN's new blog, HerStories. I'll be posting weekly over there--hope you'll join me!
Reading note. What the people want is very simple. They want an America as good as its promise.--Barbara Jordan, U.S. Congresswoman from Texas, 1972-1978. In 1976, she became the first African American to deliver a keynote address to the Democratic National Convention.
Our corner of Texas isn't known for its spectacular color. (For that, you need to make a visit to Lost Maples State Park, the only place in Texas where maple trees grow natively.) Our cedar elms, pictured here, are about as golden as they get. But on a crisp fall day, it's a delight to stand underneath them and look up at the blue, blue sky, then walk through the crunchy leaves on the ground. The cypress trees along the creek are beginning to turn their autumn russet, and the Virginia creeper is bright red.
More solar oven experiments. This pecan pie tasted every bit as good as it looks, baking here in the solar oven. Today, I'm baking pecan shortbread cookies, again in the solar oven. We're still trying to use up the enormous crop of pecans that we harvested last year (some 200 pounds, before they were shelled). Thankfully, this was an "off" year for the trees: they naturally cycle through heavy production every second year. We let the squirrels, crows, and jays have the few nuts available this year.
We voted this week, in the Burnet County courthouse, on the square. Surprisingly, there was a line, and the woman checking registrations told me that she didn't think there'd be anybody left to vote on Tuesday. But other than that, and a shopping/supper trip to Marble Falls, it was an at-home week. I logged about 6,000 words on Holly Blues, worked with Peggy on a remodel of the Story Circle webpage, did some work on our SCN online classes, and worked in the garden, where we had our first freeze, mid-week. Bill contrived some hoops for my raised beds with flexible black plastic pipes inserted into metal pegs on both sides of the bed. Covered with row cover, the beds looked like this:
The temperature got down to about 30, but everything was snug under wraps. This is the first year I've used this system. It went up and came down easily. I'll use a similar system next summer as protection against the sun and insects. We're still eating green beans and peas, but I'll probably pick the tomatoes and let them ripen in the house.
I'll have a surprise for you mid-week, so look for a posting here on Wednesday morning. (No, it has nothing to do with the election.)
And in the meantime, if you don't read anything else before you vote, please read Tom Friedman's column in the New York Times.
Reading note. We write to expose the unexposed. If there is one door in the castle you have been told not to go through, you must. Otherwise, you'll just be rearranging furniture in rooms you've already been in. Most human beings are dedicated to keeping that one door shut. But the writer's job is to see what's behind it, to see the bleak unspeakable stuff, and to turn the unspeakable into words--not just into any words but if we can, into rhythm and blues.--Anne Lamott
Life happens. Death does, too. This hungry spider wrapped her prey into a tidy bundle, then feasted on the edible parts of her queen butterfly. And this ribbon snake found an unwary frog and had him for lunch. Please don't say "gross." This is just life, up close and personal. (You can see both images up closer if you click on the photos.)
Lots happening this week. Too much, really. Bill and I remembered the Bertram Library's Souper Supper on Friday night. I took a big pot of China's Italian Sausage Soup, which everyone seemed to like--at least, it all disappeared. But I completely forgot the Willa awards at the Women Writing the West conference in San Antonio! Actually, I didn't forget: I thought it was next week. Never mind that it was on the calendar, and that I was looking forward to it--it just disappeared from the radar screen. I hope you don't do things like this. I am wretchedly embarrassed, and apologize to all my friends at WWW.
Most of what's happening here is happening in the book (Holly Blues, China #18) or in the fall garden. We've been eating green beans, snow peas, and summer carrots this week. Last night (when I should have been at the Willa!) I was on my knees planting garlic. Also planted this week: spinach and beets. The weather gurus are predicting the low 30s next week, so I'm getting out my row covers. Oh, and I baked a pecan pie in the solar oven, and yes: I'm happy to report that it turned out just fine. Couldn't tell the difference between that pie and one baked in my kitchen.
In the book, forward progress, although I need to develop another storyline or two. I don't think there's enough material in the central story to fill out the book without a lot of padding, which I dislike. In a mystery, everything, even characterization, ought to be connected somehow with the plot. I'm always impatient with "mysteries" that are filled out with lots of stuff, the only purpose of which is to pad out the book to an acceptable length. Happens more often in cozies than in other forms of mystery, and I try not to let it happen in mine.
And of course, there is the election and the economy and the news about both to keep us all occupied. I'm a lifelong Democrat (I love Texas, but it's tough for a Blue to live in a Red state, where her vote doesn't count in the presidential election) and am doing my small bit for the cause. And the economy is on everyone's mind, because we are all personally affected, in one way or another: ourselves, our extended families, our neighborhoods, our communities. I'm thinking of all of you, and hoping that you're okay. It's a time to be mindful of the needs of others--and to practice tolerance, please, whatever your political persuasions.
Reading note. You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist.--Friedrich Nietzsche
Aren't these gorgeous? These are Dani's squash (plus a few ears of corn), grown in Colorado. She shared this abundance (via this photo) with me because my squash crop was destroyed by bugs while I was in Illinois a couple of weeks ago. I don't know about you, but it makes me feel good just to look at these beauties and imagine all the delicious meals Dani will produce from her squash.
And speaking of squash, I did manage to rescue a butternut and a spaghetti squash from the bugs. Yesterday, I baked the spaghetti squash in the solar oven. We ate half of it for supper with some chopped basil, chives, parsley, salt, pepper, and butter--yum! I put the other half in the freezer. Here' what the squash looked like when I took it out of the solar oven (2 hours, 325) and fluffed it up.
Right to dry--and not. I've really enjoyed your comments on the clothesline post. Thanks so much for sharing! I'm continuing to hang, and noticing that I pay more attention to the clothing than when I simply bundle the clothes from the washer into the dryer. I notice buttons that need replacing (yes, I do own a button box) and seams that need repair--and a stain that didn't come out. Back to the sink, with a little scrubbing, and the tee shirt is ready for the line. Bet I wouldn't have seen that if I'd stuck it in the dryer, and then the heat would have set it. Plus I'm becoming more aware of the energy this saves.
But I'm also aware of the time commitment and remember how I welcomed my first electric dryer, as a mom with three kids, and how much I've depended on it over the years. So there's an important tradeoff, and I don't want any of us to think that our sisters are lesser beings because they're using their dryers! I am, when I need to--although I'm using it more mindfully now.
Writing log. I'm into China now (Holly Blues) almost every day, and enjoying it. Wormwood (completed in March 08 and out in April 09) was a very different book, set in a Shaker village in Kentucky. Feels good to be back in Pecan Springs with China and Ruby and the gang. Oh, and Sally. Remember McQuaid's first wife? She's back, bringing her usual troubles, and then some. For those of you who keep track of such things, I am now up to about 13,000 words, aiming for 85-87,000. I keep track of my word count, because it soothes my soul to see that I'm making progress, and because it helps me to gauge the shape of the book as I go along.
Reading notes. Not what we have but what we enjoy constitutes our abundance.--Epicurus
I went to high school in a very small town, Bismarck IL. When we lined up for our graduation photo in 1958, there were only 39 of us. That's why I was hugely surprised when I went back for my 50th reunion last weekend. The town has grown, inevitably, and the high school now has about 350 students (still small, I guess, by American standards). And everybody--I mean everybody--turned out for the Homecoming parade. Here's a small sample of the people who came, lined up in front of what used to be Chrisman's Grocery on the corner, and the old Brown Brothers hardware store on the right. The crowd--sitting in folding chairs, with kids playing everywhere--lined both sides of the road for the mile-long trek from the Lions' Club Park (across the tracks from the grain elevator) to the high school.
I took this photo from an antique car (our class served as parade marshals). There were a dozen old cars, the town fire engine, the high school pep band (a shadow of our 75-piece band back in 1958), cheerleaders--everthing you'd expect in a small-town Homecoming parade. Bismarck won the football game that night, and the class get-togethers were wonderful. The instant connections I felt to people I hadn't seen in fifty years were remarkable. You know the word "closure"? Somehow, this reunion smoothed out all of the lingering conflicts and unhappinesses I felt during those chaotic teen years, and I saw us not as the kids I remembered but as who we have become: productive, thoughtful, mature adults who happened to share an important four years in our lives. I'm so glad I went. The class has created a website with our bios and photos, and most of us have email. So we can keep in touch, as one of our optimists says, during the next fifty years.
Back home, I have a new energy-saving project. 
Bill strung a clothesline for me between a couple of cedar trees, I bought some new clothespins, and I'm in business. I hadn't hung up sheets for--what? 30 years? But I think hanging clothes is a skill (like bike riding) that you never forget. I have the luxury of choosing which days I want to wash, so I can choose the sunny one. Gotta say: those sheets certainly smelled good, just like Texas sunshine and fresh wind. I appreciate the dryer and the work it saves. But I'm also becoming much more aware (aren't we all?) of the real cost of our energy-saving appliances. Hanging clothes is something I can do to reduce my energy use. And it's not against the law here, either. I don't have to fight for my right to dry, as some people have.
Book report. Back at work, too, on the next China Bayles mystery, Holly Blues. I usually start writing China in mid-September, but the past few weeks have been full of other things (teaching an online class for Story Circle, working with Peggy on a couple of projects). So I'm about 20 days behind my usual writing calendar. But there's plenty of time, so I'm not anxious. (Not yet, anyway.) It's fun to be back in Pecan Springs with China and Ruby.
In case you haven't noticed, The Tale of Briar Bank came out last week. I love this book, especially love the dragon (he's on the cover, too). The dragon will be a character in another book, so I hope you'll like him in this one. Good reviews and lots of positive reader response, so I'm happy.
Reading note. It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him.--J.R.R. Tolkein, The Hobbit.
My new solar cooker, a Sun Oven. I'm learning a lot about the way the sun moves across the sky during the day, and how the temperature rises and falls with cloud cover. I've cooked rice, lasagna, and green beans; baked a loaf of bread and a cake. Here's the lasagna, cooking:
I always use the thin lasagna, which is easier to work with and tastes just as good (to us, anyway). This baked perfectly in just under two hours, at a temperature of about 275.
The zucchinis are starting to bear, now that the weather has cooled off. I had plenty of extras (who doesn't?) so I baked a zucchini chocolate cake, with pecans. I used a recipe I found on the web--not only zukes from the garden but pecans from our last year's super harvest. The cake baked in the solar oven in just under three hours. Since I didn't have any powdered sugar, I made a sour cream frosting.
Book report. I've started on the next China Bayles--worked on the overall character set, central mystery plot, secondary plots, and started the first chapter. I wanted to get something into the computer before I leave this week for my class reunion in Illinois. I'm doing a couple of book talks and a signing. If you're in the area, you're invited, but please check with the library venues to see if there's still room.
The Tale of Briar Bank will be in the stores on Tuesday. If you'd like a signed copy, click on the link--your purchase through our website will benefit Story Circle. Many thanks to those of you who have ordered through SCN. Your book purchases help us do all kinds of good things that we couldn't do with out your support. Have you checked out our women's book review site lately? Something to be proud of! (If you've already ordered a book, it will be in the mail tomorrow. And I hope you enjoy the dragon!)
For those of you who missed the link, you can find my first post on growing medicinal herbs at Hen & Harvest. Part Two will be along in a couple of weeks. These are easy-to-grow, easy-to-use herbs, nothing at all exotic about them.
Reading note. Fairy tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.--G.K. Chesterton, quoted in The Tale of Briar Bank.
Think about this, please: One in five U.S. presidents have died in office.
The fall garden (this is one of the three beds). The plants, left to right: Southern peas, snap beans, cabbages, English peas, carrots. I plant close, and will interplant as the season goes on. Our official first frost date here is Nov. 15, but that's been sliding in the past few years--last year, we got our first freeze on Dec. 10. It's possible that we'll have regular harvests through early December and likely (with row cover protection) we'll have spinach and other cold-hardy things through February. This week, we've been eating beans, Southern peas, and squash. I'm planning to add another 60+ square feet for the spring garden.
Potato tower. Somebody asked about this. It's a substitute for growing potatoes in a neat row, with soil hilled up as the plants grow taller--the way I learned to do it in my Illinois garden years ago. Here, I've made a container of hog wire, joined into a cylinder. I've planted the potatoes in about 10" of good compost at the bottom and will add compost and grass clippings as the plants grow taller. At harvest, instead of digging, I'll pull or dump the compost out and gather the potatoes. I have three towers, each with three plants--sprouted supermarket russets. My seed potatoes are set to arrive next week, but I think I'll save them for spring.
Medicinal herb post at Hen & Harvest. If you haven't visited this great blog, it's time you did. You'll learn some helpful things about becoming more self-sufficient and creating sustainable lifestyles--an important topic now, as many of us are trying to move away from the lifesupports of industrial agriculture. I've posted the first of two articles on growing your own medicine cabinet over there. The second will be up next month. While you're there, look around at the other helpful posts on lowering energy consumption and minimizing your carbon footprint: big words for living lightly on the earth.
Oh, and speaking of that, for our wedding anniversary (married 22 years ago, on the Fall Equinox), Bill gave me the solar stove (a Sun Oven) that I have been coveting. I made my own home-crafted version out of cardboard boxes (with an uncarded sheep's fleece for insulation) a while back, but this one is less bulky and easier to manage. I cooked chicken and rice in it this week--very tasty.
I have another important book to recommend to you: Sharon Astyk's new book, Depletion and Abundance: Life on the New Home Front. If you don't read another book this fall on the problems our families are facing, this is the one you want. Worth the price of the book: the appendix with hundreds of concrete, specific suggestions for ways to bring your own life down to earth. You can read my review of Sharon's book here. If you buy it from the review page, Story Circle will earn a few pennies from your purchase. (And yes, every penny counts!)
Writing news. I finished the copyedit of the memoir, and passed along your title comments to the editor. I like both titles, and am leaving it to the wisdom of the Press (they're pretty smart folks over there) to choose the right one. I'm working on the journal book (working title: An Extraordinary Year of Ordinary Days) and thinking just how extraordinary this year is turning out to be. Last week's financial crash alone would qualify it as a significant week; add Ike and its impact on oil, gas, and gasoline supplies, and you've got a humdinger. Coming up in two weeks: the publication of The Tale of Briar Bank (if you like dragons, I think you should read this book--if you don't, you should read it anyway!). So September is a busy month, and this week has been a busy one. How do we manage to do all the things we want to do in this life?
Reading note. The thing is, being involved with your food means revisiting a life of seasonality, with a time to plant, a time to sow, a time to harvest and a time to rest. It isn't just a song or a Bible verse; it becomes a way of life. And that's okay, because that link to nature may be the thing that we've been missing in our lives.--Sharon Astyk, Depletion and Abundance
These blue mist flowers are among the dining favorites of the Queen butterfly, a monarch lookalike. These are growing beside my front porch, and are covered right now with a gaggle of Queens, having breakfast on this cool morning. Their lifespans are short, only a few weeks, but they're clearly enjoying what they have, while they're here. The mist flower is high on their list of places to be.
The temperature is the lowest since last May: 54 when I got up, courtesy of a blessed cold front that swooped down from the north on the heels of angry Ike. We had no effects from the storm, thank goodness--although we would have welcomed some of the rain that others got too much of. Our hearts are with our friends in Houston and Galveston who have lost so much, some losing everything. It will be months or years before life is "normal" there again. To keep up with the news from the Coastal Bend, bookmark the Houston Chronicle.
I spent the storm weekend reading the copyedited manuscript of Landscapes of the Heart, which may be in for another name change. The marketing gurus at the University of Texas Press find that title a bit "sentimental," and I agree. If I kicked and screamed, they'd probably go with that, but I've come up with something I like better: Together, Alone: A Memoir of Marriage and Place. We'll see what they think of that. A book's title is always much discussed by the marketing people, who (sometimes this is spelled out in the contract) have the last word. I learned a long time ago to think of "my" title as a "working title," subject to change when the book is in production. But don't hold your breath. This one is a full year away. The Press works on a longer production calendar than Berkley, my mystery publisher.
Garden report. We're eating green beans, southern peas, and zukes from the garden. In case southern peas are as new to you as they are to me, take a look here. We're eating them fresh (rather than the more familiar dried), steamed. These are "cream" peas, tiny and delicious--and they grow like crazy here. I'm glad to find a prolific vegetable that grows easily in this climate. I was hoping to get seed potatoes in time to plant for a fall harvest, but they're not shipping until October (big disappointment), so I think I'm out of luck. But I sprouted some from the grocery store and have planted them in potato "towers." I'll let you know what happens with that.
Writing, Reading. I'm filling out a promotion questionnaire for UT Press, working on the journal book, thinking about the next China Bayles, and planning the April tour. Oh, and I have Sharon Astyk's very fine new book, Depletion and Abundance--a hopeful book that will help us face difficult times--to review. Should keep me busy this week.
Reading note. Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up.--Anne Lamott
