The Gardener in Winter

Seven years ago today, I started this blog. I just went back and reread the first entry, and I see that I haven’t changed much, and the blog hasn’t changed much. Anyway, that’s how it seems, but time has passed and, in truth, things have changed. Jonathan and I are both retired now. The cats are a little different, but the universal cat distribution system sees to it that we maintain a minimum of two. I still garden, and I still write, although this winter has been harder than usual for both of those.

In the winter, I am usually hopeful about writing and gardening. To chase away the winter malaise, this year I haven’t waited for seed catalogs to get me started–I’m sprouting seeds for fresh greens to put into salads and stir fries and onto sandwiches. This winter I took all the old, sad onion sets left over from the spring and put them into dirt. They are sitting in a sunny window and growing very nicely. Fresh green onions are imminent. I planted some microgreens, but they were a bit of a disappointment, so I followed them with a salad green mixture. The seeds have sprouted and are on their way to something fresh and tasty (I hope). I’ve also already started (yes, I know it’s January, but nevertheless) leeks and onions from seeds. Leeks take forever to grow so I thought I might as well begin as early as possible. I would have started chard, too, but I’m out of chard seeds. Time to check that seed catalog I got in the mail last week.

I have my Old Farmer’s Almanac and have laid out the planting days for everything I intend to put into the ground. I have a blueprint of how I want my beds to look. But I’m not stopping at growing things in dirt. My good friend, yeast, has done me proud by growing away nicely and giving me a lovely loaf of bread. As an experiment, I made my first batch of yogurt from non-fat dried milk. In spite of my slovenly approach to this imprecise art, I managed to end up with a pretty tasty pint of Greek non-fat yogurt. I advised my husband that, if eight hours after I ate it, he found me cold and unresponsive, to toss the experiment. So far so good. My next  endeavor is going to be making cheese out of the same starting material–non-fat dried milk is indestructible, but also, almost inedible. We’ll see how that goes.

What about writing over the past seven years, you may ask. I’ve completed two more novels and am well on my way to a fourth. One has been sent to a publisher, the other was nibbled at but ultimately passed over by another publisher. It’s out to a new place now, so fingers crossed. A few short stories have been rejected and accepted, but the later are for anthologies, and those take FOREVER to get published. I’ve given some interviews and done some book signings.  And I’ve served as editor for several books, all published now. Finally, I’ve just been asked to help a friend write her autobiography. That will be new territory for me.

We’ll see what the next seven years hold, if I make it that long. I plan to. No matter what happens,  I’ll  keep writing and gardening. But maybe not all the time every day. I have to take some time out to hang with the cats and husband.

Image: Bread, yogurt, and sprouts. By Marilyn Evans

The Late Winter Optimist

Once again I have succumbed to the siren song of the winter seed catalog. In spite of my optimistic post of the past, I really was teetering on the edge of full surrender to a life free of the agony of gardening. But that little bomb that came in the mail, in the bleakest time of the year for a Midwestern gardener, sucked me in. I perused. I made selections. I inventoried my existing stash of seeds. I ordered new seeds. I counted back from the days for the last projected frost, days to germination, best days to plant by the moon according to the Old Farmer’s Almanac. I have a three page blueprint for the layout of the garden beds with an eye to companion planting. I’ve evaluated my fences and acquired new posts to keep them upright. Of course, the weather, beasts, weeds, and all will conspire against me. I imagine the chipmunks in their underground bunkers laying plans for their spring assault. There must be some kind of twelve step program to help people like me, the gardening addicted. And yet, the leek seeds all germinated, spreading their tiny contagion of optimism.

Even in the deepest darkest throes of winter, there is room for optimism. There has to be. Otherwise we’d give up, shrivel up, and…well, you know. Recently a family emergency called me out of state. My cat sitter, who spoils the kids so mercilessly that when I come home I get the, “Who are you and what have you done with Aunt Laurie?” treatment, watered my little starter seedlings. Not only have the leeks survived, but they are thriving. I made it home just in time to plant the other seeds on schedule: tomatoes, eggplants, peppers, and my eternal overachievers, the cucumbers. They may or may not come up in seven to fourteen days.

More dead-of-winter hopefulness has reared its lovely head: a publisher has expressed interest in The Gingerbread House.  Add to that the news from an editing client that his book has been accepted by a publisher, and things are looking pretty good. But to keep me grounded in reality, a flash fiction piece got rejected. Review, possibly rewrite, submit somewhere else.

I have discovered that sitting on a plane for several hours contributes to my optimism. I managed to do a first draft of a short story that has been tickling the back of my mind, and got down pages of notes on the various novels that have need of my attention. In fact, most of this blog post is the product of flying through the air in a metal tube. Perhaps if I become a world traveler I’ll get a lot more written.

Unfortunately, I may be headed back out of state in the near future. Probably all of the plants will die while I’m gone. I don’t care. I’m hopeful now. And that’s a good place to start.

Image: Optimistic leeks. By Marilyn Evans

Back in the Saddle

If you check now and again to see if I’m posting to my blog, you may have noticed I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus from writing. Between funerals, the kitchen remodel, a two week visit by my best friend (involving much drinking and conversation), and a few other things that took my mind elsewhere, I’ve been unable to really focus. Last night I re-read all of my blog posts. At the risk of seeming immodest (oh, who am I kidding–I haven’t a modest bone in my body), I have to say there seemed to be some pretty good advice in a few of those posts. I’ve decided to follow my own advice and get back to work.

The first thing I did was drop by the library and get new books, both to read and to listen to as I drove to the stable to see my husband’s horse. I realized after reading on my blog about reading that I haven’t been doing enough of it lately, and I know reading is a strong stimulus for getting me to write. I’ve also set aside time each day to write, either at home or someplace that works for me–coffee shops and the library are among my favorites. I get a lot of writing done in waiting rooms, but if I just plop down in one and help myself to their coffee and donuts without a good reason to be there, I might get asked to leave. I haven’t actually tried it yet.

I’ve decided I need to take another look at publishers for my second novel. I also need to take a good, long look at the short stories I’ve written to see if they are salvageable and should be sent out on the endless merry-go-round of submission and rejection. Always a good time. I was inspired to this by a friend I recently had lunch with. She has multiple plays being produced this summer at multiple venues in multiple cities. This success is the result of sending out masses of plays and then forgetting about them. I found that inspirational. I shall go forth and do likewise.

I did have some encouraging news. Alternating Current Press has finally closed submissions (again) for Undeniable, and they project an early autumn publishing date. Of course, there’s still a chance they’ll decide, “Oops. We don’t like your novella after all.” I should know by the middle of June.

So it’s back to the keyboard, I go. Time to get back to work.

Image: Me on Amish Honey in 2013. By Jonathan Hutchins.