More Mulch

Spoor of the Mulch Mole

Last week, we got a call from a local tree service, asking if we could use some mulch.  I’d been reading Bryony and Roses by T. Kingfisher (aka Ursula Vernon), a Beauty and the Beast retelling in which the “Beauty” is a gardener.  I was in the mood for mulch.  And while I did not have a Beast to help with the shoveling, an archeologist is nearly as good.

Ninety or so garden carts later, I will admit, Jim and I are much less in the mood for mulch.  Our back yard will soon be lightly quilted in a variation of shredded, chipped, and sometimes nearly sawdust wood matter, leaves, and in some instances dirt and gravel, probably scraped up from someone’s landscaping.  Hey, it’s free, so you can’t expect it all perfectly shifted and graded.

However, at this moment, much of the yard rather looks as if we’ve been visited by a very large, very strange mole.

I’ve finally caught up on a great deal of the paperwork and other chores I’d let lie fallow while finishing House of Rough Diamonds, the stand-alone sequel to this year’s new releases Library of the Sapphire Wind and Aurora Borealis Bridge.

I have a couple ideas for short stories.  Maybe I’ll see about writing one of those next.