Summer is Over
Sep. 27th, 2007 05:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pameladeanThe 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
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
