We have a lone doe hanging around in the yard this spring and early summer, ignoring the dogs barking at her in favor of ALL the available weeds abundantly thriving in the yard. It’s possible the lawn mower had a setback and the parts took a while to get here, so the yard was a bit of a hayfield for a while there. Oops.
Anyway. The pretty lady bravely getting as close to the fence as the playset slide (VERY close to the garage and dog fence, just outside my office window) where she listens to the golfers at the first tee box and occasionally snorts at them. The rest of the herd, which is usually anywhere from three to seven deer strong, is nowhere to be seen. We suspect she has a fawn she’s stashing in the woods close by, because while Ragnar and Minerva are loud barky buttheads, they don’t seem to bother her and I bet she’s banking on them keeping other predators away from her baby. Between her presence, the daily aerial battles by humming birds on my windowpane, and the lightning bugs winking like fairylights in the woods and yard at night, life is quite Disneyish around here lately.
My email sent a lovely little reminder the other day from a writing magazine, on a day I felt a little fussy about the state of the world and my place in it. The contents were irrelevant: selling some class or service for which I’m unwilling to pay, but the subject did catch my eye.
Leap, and the Net Will Appear.
It came less than a week after my publisher accepted my proposal for book two, which is exciting and terrifying and thrilling all at once.
I have no intention of leaping netless: work is still work and bills are still bills. But I do have an excellent project plan and I’m making decent progress into the first draft: manuscript is due in September and I really want to be able to take my cabin week off to just read fun books and swim in August.
It’s a magical summer indeed.
No Pithy Phrase 