It must be spring. It’s Monday, and my hands hurt. I went to the home improvement store twice for mulch, and I’m out again. The yard is maybe a third of the way done, and I’m chasing the new growth just starting to come up, trying to cover the tender stuff at just the right moment so that it stays under wraps just a few more days to weather the cold snap headed our way. I’ve got tarps, but I’d rather not use them. Much of what’s poking up can take it, but not the Hosta, and I’ve got a lot of them.
My big news for the weekend is that the compost pile has been turned, and I’ve got a bin of good black dirt (on the left side). Look at all that freakin’ dirt. We’ve been settled in our current house for about five years, and this is the third year for the compost pile. Last year was adequate, but this year, I’ve got dirt to just go crazy with. It’s best if you can have two or three bins because all that wonderful dirt was under two feet of stuff not yet composted. It’s now in the right hand bin, and it will be ready next year. That’s what “turning the compost pile” is. Being in the city, we can’t just make piles, but I think it looks nice in actual bins. Once I deplete the dirt from the one side, I’ll throw the top waste into it to get to the new dirt on the right, but that won’t be until next year. There’s ash in the black bucket, and the blue tub is full of ground up stump. I’m horribly pleased that I’ve got brown stuff to mix with the green grass this year. It’s going to make some hellacious dirt. I’ve never had brown stuff before until fall, so this might make the pile hotter.
On the book news, I’m in page proofs, which means the ARCs are printed. Happy dance commencing! And even better, Tim had this pop up on his screen this morning while pursing MSN entertainment for his movie-fix news. Thank you, Gallery Books at Simon and Schuster. I know these spot are targeted, but wow, it’s good seeing THE DRAFTER there in an ad. Made my day.
Spring is busting out all over. No rain yesterday, but we’re not desperate yet for it, and a little slow down might be in order. My cherry tree looks about a week out, and the apple is not far behind. As for me, I’m pushing forward on Peri’s second book, and it’s going well. I’m starting to know Bill a little more. He’s . . . interesting–for a bad guy.
Someone in Hollywood could have fun with him.
I’ve been watching the weather the last couple of days, enjoying the cool spring, but wondering if we were going to get any rain. Today is my best chance of that for the week, and I’m hopeful after looking at the map. We kind of need it, with all the new growth sucking up what was left in the ground. You can see it in my Hepatica, kind of drooping a little from the cold and dryness. It will perk up even if it doesn’t rain, but it looks kind of dry. This is in my Michigan wild flower bed. (All planted from legal sources. I don’t wild collect.) I’m terribly pleased that it’s finally starting to propogate. See that green clump to the left? That’s brand new. Four years, it took. Next year it will probably have flowers.
I already have the hose out and running. It’s a bit early for me, but I was forced to move a bunch of plants for a construction project, and though it’s a good time to do it, their roots aren’t too happy about it. Took me three days, and I still have one more to go. They need the extra water to get settled in. This rain we might get will help.
Oh, and I went in to Nicola’s to sign those first edition, blue butterfly copies of THE WITCH WITH NO NAME yesterday and found out they have more than thirty copies, more like a hundred, so if you want one of these, guaranteed to be first edition, here’s the site to order: http://www.nicolasbooks.com/kim-harrison Just get the hard cover, and you’re all set.
I’ve been in contact with Nicola’s, my local store who offers signed copies of all the books. They have thirty first edition copies of THE WITCH WITH NO NAME left. These are the ones with the blue butterfly on them. Following editions have butterflies (and I’ll even sign them) , but only the first edition have colored in the text.
If you want one of these bad boys, pop on over to their page and snag it before they’re gone. International is okay, but it’s better to email Pat for a shipping quote first at firstname.lastname@example.org
Click to order The Witch With No Name
Early heads up, I’m going to have a contest at the end of the month to celebrate the mass market of The Witch with No Name coming out. Get your camera’s ready, I need a picture for Peri’s freebie, and I’m coming to you guys for it. More info on the 28th. :-)
We’ve got layers, just like ogres.
I’ve got lots going on right now, but nothing to share. The weekend was spent in a pleasant mix of casual tidying of the yard and some tweaks to the monarch project. I have now officially been around the house once in my spring tidy, getting the leaves that blew in over the winter and exposing the dirt to the sun, and there are about six bags of winter at the curb waiting to be taken to the city compost. Three holly were cut down almost in half of what they were to promote new growth from the bottom. I never liked how the nursery had woven the branches around themselves. That’s not how you’re supposed to do it. Maybe now they’ll grow properly. Put in a new pump for my Koi pond/bird bath. I’m amazed at what’s coming up. It’s been a most pleasant spring so far. But I don’t take anything for granted.
Inside, I tweaked my monarch, adding some of the white spots into the actual knitting instead of embroidering them on after. I like it better, but it must have done four wings in one day.
It’s interesting comparing rewriting to the process of tweaking a pattern. Both are labor intensive for a small, some might say insignificant change. But I see it, and sometimes, that’s all that matters.
It’s a rushing day, a windy day, a chase the recycle bins down the street day. A roaring in the bare trees day where the dogs hasten inside, spooked by the unseen push of a vengeful summer beating winter’s ghosts out of the shadowed places.
I’m still with fatigue of a late hour turned into an early morning as I waited for sirens to warn me to earth, a call that never came, yet did its task regardless; a lifetime of knowing and reading the wind beats Jim Cantore.
Coffee will quicken the fingers and ease the pressure within my face, but the stillness inside will remain, an unrealized memory of what if.