M. Larose's Blog: From the Meadow and the Tower - Posts Tagged "magic"

I'm back to this blog after lapsing for a while. My writing has been hampered by technical glitches for the last few months. While I've struggled with home issues and pending excavation around our home, my writing has been dampened, as well: like a garden too waterlogged and sun-deprived to blossom. The buds of story have been compressed within my psyche like malnourished flower buds. Literally and figuratively, there's been too much rain, and I've felt bogged-down.
However, things are improving. My laptop has been purged of viruses and files that would not open have been recovered. Story scenes are forming and soon will find life on the page. Please bear with me if you follow this blog. Soon I'll write something more interesting!
Progress: My book, The Flower Eater, is being re-issued, with a much improved back cover which will now include snippets from the wonderful Kirkus Review I got. Also, the back cover will now have a briefer description and will give away less of the plot detail. I feel a huge relief to finally have the cover corrected! It will take 10-15 days for the new version to be available through the various outlets, but if anyone owns the book, you have a first-edition copy. Those copies may someday be worth something as collectors' editions. Here's hoping!
Also: my website has been in limbo, but I'm addressing that soon. Meanwhile, the plot of the sequel is forming unseen within my mind. The sodden earth is warming under the sun's encouraging rays, and soon those flower-buds of story will unfold again. My thanks to those who sometimes stop, in the midst of their own journeys, to view the garden of my words. You are like the sunshine!

My husband tells me that, at least in Vermont, once August 15 has come and gone the season is considered autumn. That may be. But it still feels like summer today and I'm happy about that. I do love fall, with it's flaming colors, and falling, swirling leaves, and that sense that something powerful is approaching. But I'm not so wild about what happens when autumn whisks away and winter settles in to grip and chill us for long, dark, dreary months.
I have come to appreciate the elements of winter, to an extent: the cold air and icy crystalin snow can be cleansing and bracing.
But right now it feels like summer, my soul still revels in the warm, dry sunlight that fills the air and lends a golden glow over the final, fading flowers.
Recent mechanical upheaval of the earth around our home has drained away the errant waters that were collecting in our basement. The mud is drying, and the pent-up, anxious energies have been freed from their dank prison below the house.
Likewise, my soul is now freed of that darkness, that primal worry over the keeping of a home. Like a butterfly or bee among the flowers, my mind now flits easily from one idea to another, rejoicing in the sunshine of contentment.
The garden of my thoughts feels sunlit again, in synchrony with the natural world around me. My mind is collecting the pollen of imagination. Soon I hope to mold the sticky golden substance into a honey of a story!