Summer is Over

[pameladean]

The end of summer, inside my brain, was announced emphatically not by the alteration of the light or the drop in temperature, but rather by Eric's departure back to California after three months here, and the anniversary, on the following day, of Mike's death. Such things will sober a person right up.

A cat, now, especially a long-haired cat like Aristophanes, will rather be made quite wild by the weather, and does not much regard the absence of my dear friend, though he purrs a bit if wept upon.

The yard and garden are a wreck. I didn't even try to plant any herbs or vegetables, being engaged in wrestling with Going North. Honors for best work at taking over territory are split among the wild rose bushes, the plantain, and the hairy bellflower. The volunteer saplings might make the running if Eric had not wrested a number of them from the ground while he was staying with us.

I look forward to next spring, when I expect to be writing a book, but on a comfortable deadline, possibly even a self-imposed one. The current deadline is extremely uncomfortable. I've been writing Chapter 19 for way too long. I expect about 30 chapters, though for me a chapter is a pretty loose term and they tend to get flung about and recombined a great deal in successive passes of revision. I'm having skittery flashbacks to all the chapter-juggling I did for The Secret Country, which also alternates between two viewpoints. The book is doing the hoped-for, though never really expected, change of pace at about the right point, and all the little details I dropped in earlier on with no idea in the world of why I might want them there are hopping up and clamoring for attention. This is useful enough, although ideally they would continue by plopping themselves down into a good order without the intercession of my intellect. It is lucky that, since I was allowed to stop taking one of my blood pressure medications, I can have a little caffeine now and again.

My main conclusion of the summer is that Eric and I need to live in the same city. I knew that already. A few other highlights include a lovely trip to Montreal with David, for Farthing-party; a road trip to Hibbing, Duluth, and environs with Eric and carbonel, also lovely and full of birch trees, moss, cryptogams, scenery, and an attempt at star-gazing during which I exclaimed disapprovingly, "What's that LIGHT?" and was gently told that, as discussed earlier, it was the waxing moon; a brief but happy encounter with Will and Emma when they came through on their book tour; hikes in the various St. Croix River parks with Raphael; and a performance of Coriolanus at the Bedlam Theater, where the play itself was performed quite straightforwardly, but the venue was such that the audience was chivvied from room to room by the actors, never quite knowing where to sit or how long sitting would be allowed. Eric and I enjoyed it quite a lot, but agreed that, since the audience was comprised of Minnesotans, some member of the acting company who had no other job ought to have been assigned to encourage a little more participation.

I had meant to post a list of books read as well, but that will have to wait. I really want to finish Chapter 19 today. I'm tired of it.

As usual, I am reading all your entries with absorption, although I post comments in a very erratic fashion.

Pamela

Comments

[sartorias.livejournal.com]

The traveling sounds so lovely. What a series of images I got!

Good luck on the writing front. Deadline pushing: argh.

[pameladean]

I have photos of the trip up north; I just need to upload them.

Thanks for the good wishes.

P.

[inlaterdays.livejournal.com]

Overrun with wild roses sounds like a fairy tale...but I imagine bringing them to heel with clippers eventually will be quite a bit more scratchy and less enchanted than that sounds.

Oooh, what kind of cryptograms?

[pameladean]

They are less thorny than the Henry Kelsey, but they do insinuate their prickles all over in a very insidious way. I'm not going to be able to get at the bird feeder soon. I already have to go the wrong way round.

If they bloomed more continuously I'd have a harder time thinking about suppressing them.

I don't know what kind of cryptogams exactly. I don't have a cryptogam book. I hope to have pictures soon, though. At first we thought they were little evergreen seedlings, but Eric noticed that they weren't.

P.

[inlaterdays.livejournal.com]

Doh, sorry for my typo.

[pameladean]

I'm amazed I didn't make your typo first. It's very hard not to type the "r".

P.

[fledgist.livejournal.com]

Wouldn't cryptogams be hidden legs?

[pameladean]

One would certainly think so, but botanical nomenclature is a law unto itself.

(Nice to see you! TNH introduced us in Montreal, but the place was so noisy that we didn't converse.)

P.

[fledgist.livejournal.com]

Thanks for friending me. It's nice to see you online too. Sorry we didn't talk in Montreal.

(Robert Graves suggested in an essay -- in, I think, *The Crowning Privilege* -- that the 'gentleman from Porlock' might have been an excuse for the somewhat abrupt ending of 'Kubla Khan', which, he thought, showed signs of revisioin.)

[pameladean]

You are certainly welcome. As for the conversation, well, after all, while I lurk assiduously on Making Light, I almost never say anything, so much better you should talk to T.

As for the person from Porlock, I wouldn't be a bit surprised. It seems a very Coleridgean thing to make up. Robert Graves, when he is not driving me to distraction, delights me. Wasn't it he who suggested that the Odyssey must have been written by a woman?

P.

[fledgist.livejournal.com]

Graves is one of the advocates of a female author of the Odyssey. His novel *Homer's Daughter* lays out his theory.

He's fascinating, but he does drive one nuts. I remember being amused, when I was an undergraduate, to discover that my university library's card catalogue listed *The Crowning Privilege* as *The Crowing Privilege*.

I'm certain that you must be a perfectly delightful conversationalist.

Cheers,
Fragano

[mjlayman.livejournal.com]

Changes, not just the season, are hard to deal with.

[pameladean]

Undesired changes are, for sure.

P.

[blueoxmn.livejournal.com]

Sorry to hear about the long distance close friend, that can be tough. I'm not sure but I think we met some really long time ago at a party at Steven Brust's place, somewhere around the release of 500 years after. Good luck on the deadline and keep your chin up, I love your writing quite a bit, so I am sure the struggle will be worth the effort.

[pameladean]

Wow, that's a long time ago, but I have a very vague memory, so it's quite likely. Thanks for the encouraging words.

P.

[minnehaha.livejournal.com]

I hope they were three good months.

K.

[pameladean]

They were entirely so. And the vegetables helped a lot, too.

And welcome home!

P.

[faithhopetricks.livejournal.com]

I am so glad to see a post from you on my flist -- even if it is sad to see some melancholy (this is about the time of year when I start rereading Keats).

[pameladean]

Yes, it is about time for Keats. I tend to wait for October. September is the time for rereading Tolkien, but I don't think I'll be doing that this year.

P.

[karenkay.livejournal.com]

I love your updates, Pamela; thanks. I think Ari and Nanook are twins under their fur! There is something about this weather that makes him alternately spend hours outside Chasing Things and the rest of the time inside cuddling.

I'm glad you're writing, even though your deadline is tough.

[pameladean]

Our cats do seem to have some things in common. It must be the orange gene.

It's my own fault the deadline is tough, alas, but it does take a very long time to get the entire creative brain in gear.

P.

[karenkay.livejournal.com]

Creative brains, like backs, are fussy!

Nanook isn't really orange, though he acts like it sometimes. He's the same color as my carpet, a kind of dark beige.

[pameladean]

Ari isn't exactly orange, either; he's a muted orange tabby. Raphael called him "the pink cat" when he was younger, but he's a little oranger now; his nose and paws look ever so faintly gilded, as the paws of some gray cats look silvered.

Nanook might be muted orange too, or something else altogether.

P.

[jinian.livejournal.com]

The moon in your post and Rivka's plays very different roles.

*hug* I'm sad that Eric is insufficiently accessible. Your time with him always sounds so good.

[pameladean]

It does, doesn't it? The difference between looking for the moon -- which I do a lot of, but usually when it's smaller -- and having the moon find you instead.

Thanks for the hug. We do have good times. Accessibility may improve eventually, but that's too tentative to say much about. (No, I'm not going anywhere.)

P.

[kightp.livejournal.com]

Here I am half a month later, playing random "catch up on your friends' journals, for gods' sake," and so just seeing this. And feeling awash with empathy over Eric's departure. johnpalmer has been here just over a month, and we still don't know if he'll have to move back to Seattle for work. The prospect of going LDR again feels terribly ... daunting ... just now.

Holding out hopes that the universe conspires to let all of us be closer to our beloveds, without all this moving-back-and-forthness...