Sunday Stroll

This is a combination of strolls. A little bit of rose garden strolling on Saturday, because I wasn't sure today's weather would be conducive, and again today both at the Lodge and at church.

Rose of the Day: Shailer's Provence. I usually describe this is as my favourite rose. (Warning: The phrase "my favourite rose" will often recur during Rose Season. It's a Boursault variety, dates from about 1796 (I think) and the enormous, taller-than-me plants began as a couple of fragile slips my mother rooted from her plant many years ago.

Here's what it looked like yesterday.



And this morning, in the rain. As usual, it is absolutely covered with buds and the blossoms are just opening.



The following rose photos are mostly from yesterday.

Quatre Saisons, the Four Seasons Rose, also known as Autumn Damask, possibly the most ancient of cultivated (not wild) roses. I'll probably have better photos later, but this was the first bloom to open.



The Bishop, which I seem to recall is a gallica rose, so named because it's colour is identical to that of a Bishop's purple shirt.



A species rose, similar to the dog rose (rosa canina) but with a larger flower. It's a volunteer, possibly Eglantine. I didn't mean to grow it, it found me. But it's a nice flower with that apple scent of English wild hedgerow roses.



Some of the flowers growing in the church garden.




Peony season--how appropriate that they decorated the altar!



Losing a father right before Father's Day is hard. As we left church the Chap was handed a big bouquet of altar peonies, now gracing our dining room.



A mourning dove takes a nap on the deck rail in the rain.



This is the first day of Summer although one couldn't guess it from the temperature. We're having so much rain that everything is lush and green, a nice (but dripping) backdrop for my rose gardens.

As always, thanks for stopping by, and if you'd like to follow other strolls go here!

3 B's

Today's purchase: my Benz.



How I celebrated: with my fave Beverage



What I saw from the deck a few minutes ago: that big Bunny (snowshoe hare)

A Backward Glance

A week ago to today I arrived in Schaumburg IL (outside Chicago) for the Historical Novel Society's North American conference. I intended to blog about it on my return, but the death in our family the day after I got back home and other factors prevented me. In fact, the delay in writing about the event is no big deal, because a retrospective view allows for a fuller assessment.

The North American conference occurs every 2 years, alternating with a UK conference. I always sort of thought I might attend the UK one before the NA one...but I believe it usually takes place in July. And in recent years I've been loathe to uproot myself from the lake cottage at that time of year. (This July being an exception to that rule, which will soon become evident.)

My flight from MHT was at 6:50 and the plane arrived at O'Hare early, not long after 8--normally I'm not out of bed at that time. Travelled to the Hyatt Regency Woodfield via shuttle, found myself in a huge-normous corner room with the longest sofa I've ever seen and a view of the front gardens (workers were planting things) and the massive shopping mall across the street.

My friend and conference buddy Susan Holloway Scott and I met for a chatty lunch. In the evening there was a reception and banquet (see my photo op with Margaret George in a previous post.) Saw lots of friends, real life and online.

On Saturday morning I had to step out of the first workshop for an appointment with an editor. After 21 years as a published author, 11 novels, a novella, articles, columns, nonfiction book, and poetry under my belt, I finally had my very first ever editorial appointment. The sign of an excellent conference is having difficulty choosing which workshop to attend, and that was certainly true for this conference! Enjoyed some Saturday afternoon schmoozing with pals in the lobby. There was another reception and banquet, with Sharon Kay Penman as keynoter. Her speech was followed by a costume pageant/competition and the Late Night Sex Scene Reading, which seems to be a tradition.

Sunday was much the same, I left the first workshop for my second ever editorial appointment. By the time it was over I needed to finish my packing and check out and be ready for my scheduled shuttle, so the conference pretty much ended for me with my editor meeting. All my travel to and from went amazingly smoothly, not a single hitch, and I felt amazingly fortunate.

Others have blogged about the conference and took more photos than I (unusual, I know!). If you're interested in other accounts, go here and here and here (a comprehensive link list from one of the organisers.)

Mind you, throughout all this my father-in-law's condition was wavering between somewhat hopeful to quite dire. So I was regualarly nipping up to my room to check in with the Chap via phone or email for updates.

I came home from the conference with some solid information on the state of the mainstream historical fiction market. I interacted with people who do what I do, which is always refreshing. Both editors requested my manuscript when it's finished, so I had good news to pass along to my agent. Additional proof of how excellent the conference was: I came home energised, not exhausted. I commend the "Historical Novel Society for sponsoring the very best writers' conference I've ever attended. And after 21 years in the biz, I've attended more than my share.

My time away has already borne fruit. From Wednesday afternoon till late last night, I wrote an astonishing (unprecedented) 5000 words. That's five times my normal daily output. I can't credit this solely to the HNS, however. It was constantly raining, and I was stuck indoors. And now I'm close enough to the end that it feels like I'm on a rollercoaster zooming down that last sharp slope, and gravity is pulling me fast. The story is there, I just follow my outline and listen to the voices in my head, and hope my fingers on the keyboard can keep up! And yet, even when I felt sure there's nothing more to learn about my characters' history...last night, after forcing (yes, forcing!) myself to stop creating, I did a little bit of "just for fun" research in some primary source material. Lo and behold, I stumbled on a nugget of factual information about my male protagonist that a) I didn't know, and b) is extremely useful, and c) will fit beautifully into my very next chapter.

This morning, after our walk in the rain, the dogs and I returned to the Lodge. I phoned the auto dealer to make a deposit on a vehicle to hold it. Then I went to the State House to give some visitors a quick tour. Not much going on there--except in Reps Hall, which had been taken over by CityYear. My guests got to see the Speaker's Office (she was out) and the Executive Council chamber and the Senate chamber and my cool parking space.



It has been a very strange and challenging week. Sad (death in our family) and insanely productive (5000 words in just over 24 hours! finishing the cookbook project--final galley proofing this weekend, off to the printer on Monday!) and exciting (found out a friend is visiting in August) and has presented me with big decisions (car purchase, next week's state budget vote) and fascinating (spawning fish!)

The sun is out--for only the second time in over a week. Hope it sticks around.

Have a great weekend, everybody!

Spawning

The dogs and I came up to the lake cottage a little while ago. Lots of errands along the way--P.O. to post my dad's Father's Day parcel, convenience store for hard cider and worms for my pet fish, the bank.

It's a gorgeous sunny day, air is pleasantly cool.

After our usual walk, immediately after arrival, we headed down to the dock. I needed to clean the water filter down at the pump and I wanted to throw a worm to Walter my fish.

Walter was busy. With Mrs. Walter. I caught them in the act--of spawning.

A very interesting process.

They swim very close together, around in a circle about 2 feet in a diameter, moving either clockwise or ante-clockwise.

This way...



...and that.



She sometimes would move down to the bottom, sort of on her side. She's the big speckled one.



Clearly he thinks she's hot.



I did throw out a worm, just to see if they'd be interested. (Looked to me like they're working up an appetite.) They didn't even notice it!

Yes, I'm a voyeur. I took many photographs. The dogs didn't notice, they were scavenging unripe blueberries low down on the bush.

I just went to check on Walter. He's by himself now. Evidently the missus doesn't stay after The Deed is done--love him and leave him. Now he just has me...and worms. And spawn to watch over until it hatches.

Around and About

I'm truly grateful for the kind comments in response to my previous post. We are well here at the Lodge.

This morning the sun returned after a long absence. I took time to wander my gardens, which proved very interesting. A naughty deer visited in the night to chew the tops off some perennials as well as tender shoots off a few rose bushes. The damage could've been a lot worse.

I spotted the snowshoe hare hopping about the front yard, before I had my camera in hand. It was enormous! It's been quite a long time since a big brown bunny sighting. I'm happy for proof that it survived the winter and is still bouncing along.

Our feeders are busy with colourful birds--orioles, hummingbirds, rose-breasted grosbeaks, blue jays. The orioles have taught their bumbling baby where to come for food. The red-breasted nuthatch brood is constantly pecking at the suet cage, as are the young hairy woodpeckers.

My wisteria is looking quite lovely. I waited so many years for this plant to produce flowers, I never cease to cherish them!



My Therese Bugnet rugosa has already appeared as a Rose of the Day, but this specimen seemed worthy of a wider audience. My hand clasping the stem gives some perspective on how massive this blossom is.



When I drove off to begin my daily errands I saw the mallard family in the shallows of the little lake. I pulled over to take some pics. They retreated into the foliage.

They thought I couldn't see them.



It's a huge brood. Above you see Mama Mallard and six large ducklings. Papa Mallard and another duckling had headed out into deeper waters.

This duckling was laughing at me.



In Concord I dropped off an official Honorable MEP letter in support of funding for an Early Head Start Program in 2 of my district towns. Then to Manchester to test drive the car the Chap found for me while I was away. Back to Concord for my mandolin lesson.

Got home to find another condolence offering decorating the deck, a very attractive living plant arrangement, from the Chap's office. Yesterday his department colleagues sent one. People have been so kind about phone calls and notes. It really means a lot.

I've just now polished off final edits and the indexing of the cookbook, which goes to the printers at week's end.

I'm planning a trek to the lake cottage to resume novel-writing. And to catch up on sleep, something I've not had much of since about Wednesday.

Passages

I am very thankful that I returned home when I did. I was sleeping beside my husband when the call came, at about 12:35 this morning--his brother informing us their father passed away in hospital in South Carolina.

In recent weeks my father-in-law, a tough New England Yankee, had endured a difficult time and many challenges. A combination of conditions prevented him from recovering from the surgery he had over a week ago. At age 87, and despite the vigor he displayed in advanced age, it was increasingly obvious that time was running out. Over the past month he had visits from his daughter (when still at his retirement home), my husband (when in hospital but discharged from ICU), and his other son (who was there for the final days of tranfers from various care units and all the medical interventions.)

My brother-in-law returned to his PA home last night. There was a conference call in the evening with the 3 siblings, to prepare them. Except that nobody is ever prepared, really, to lose a parent. Or so it seems. I feel blessed to have mine still, and spoke to them this morning.

When the D-Day observances took place last weekend and commentators spoke of the diminishing population of veterans, I was all too aware of the precarious state this particular aged vet who had arrived in France from the UK a few days after that famous landing. Now there's another loss from that brave contingent, a man who personified the Greatest Generation in all the best ways. Son, soldier, husband, father, businessman. It was quite a journey, from lovely Salem, MA to the war-torn Europe to North Carolina (where he met and married a Southern beauty), to Milwaukee where he built a career and where his three children were born, to retirement in North Carolina, to the hospital across the state line where the long and well-lived life ended. And of course, the countless summers at the New Hampshire lake cottage, winter recreation on the frozen lake, autumn foliage--making the most of that very special spot we all cherish.

We don't yet know the exact time of death but likely it was after midnight. There's a certain comfort in his leaving us today--the birthday of his first wife, my husband's mother, who died 20 years ago. He leaves behind a widow.

The Chap stayed home from the office today. Lots of phone calls ahead, arrangements to be made long-distance, and informing far-flung relatives and friends, most of whom won't be expecting this unhappy news.

I'll say it again. I'm very thankful I'm back home at the Lodge and not in Chicago or even up at the lake cottage. There's not much I can do, I speak what comfort I can, but just being here with the Chap right now is so necessary.

Sunday Stroll: Soar & Soak

A sunny day and a Great Lake (with Chicago skyline above the wing of my eastbound flight)



A rainy day on my little lake



Joyous reunion with spouse and dogs late this afternoon. Much exhilaration over awesome historical writers' conference (more on that later). Some exhaustion, even though the hotel bed was the best one ever and my travels today were smooth as silk and everything on time.

For the usual garden strolls, stop by Aisling's place.

Day to Night

The approach to Chicago's O'Hare airport. Nice day to fly!



After tonight's banquet I had an encounter with Margaret George, keynote speaker for the Historical Novel Society conference.



We have a mutual friend, one of my priest buddies in NH. This photo was taken to prove to him that the 2 Margarets met.

I'm having a blast so far. Happy to be with my tribe. When in her speech, our keynoter described taking covert photographs inside historic places in Britain where photography is prohibited, I almost pumped my fist in the air. In this crowd, that's considered normal behaviour.

Word from the Lodge is that Jewel's not coping too well with my absence. Ruth's her usual cute and cheery self.

Home & Away

Rose of the Day: Stanwell Perpetual Another Scotch rose. It follows no definition of "perpetual" that I understand. It blooms once, rampantly, early in rose season, and that's it. It's low, twiggy, thorny--but when flowering I forget it's many deficiencies.

Left the lake cottage and arrived back at the Lodge on Tuesday, during a downpour. Had a mandolin lesson followed by a diocesan meeting. Yesterday the House met in the afternoon, to concur with the Senate on bills, or non-concur, or form committees of conference. Afterwards the majority office hosted a social--hotdogs on the grill, cookies and cupcakes, and a popcorn machine. On the way home I stopped at the BMW dealership to pick up a manual for the model I'm considering. We're closer to making a decision.

It's an action-packed day of packing, travel preparations, diocesan meeting, dinner with a friend, and checking into an airport hotel. I'm headed off to a historical novelists' conference and will be blogging from there I assume.

I'm leaving the Chap behind to monitor the hospital reports--a member of his family is having a difficult time. The situation is grim but stable. As of yesterday.

To cheer myself up last night I finished watching the DVD extras on the 2nd season disc of Extras. Laughter helps. The dull, chilly, rainy weather doesn't.

I've not cleared my imminent departure with the dogs, but we spending quality time together this morning. My late, great chum Edith used to take her ginormous Bernese Mountain Dog dog to conferences. Wish I could do the same, but it might be distracting--not only for me!

More Monday-ness

Around midday I headed down to the dock. It's far from swimming weather, and the mornings and evenings are cool, so I'm not spending any time at the waterside except for photographic purposes. But today I was on a mission. This is the season when the wife of my fish Walter spawns, and for a few weeks thereafter he guards the spawn.

And I was rewarded with my very first Walter sighting!



While he's on guard duty I keep a container of worms on hand to feed him. I'm pretty sure he was expecting a hand-out but...I haven't bought bait yet.

During our touching reunion, the girls were doing their thing up by the house.

Jewel worked on her suntan.



Ruth worked on her cuteness. In fact, she's "pleading cute" so I'll take her for a walk.



We came back inside for an afternoon of working (me) and sleeping (them). They appear to be comatose on the sofa. But I know that when, an hour from now, I suddenly say, "Do you want to go for a walk?" they will instantly hurtle towards the hook by the door where their leashing hang.

Their vocabulary is limited. They recognise their names and (usually) come when called. And the very special words--"eat," "outside," and "walk"--unfailingly cause great excitement!

Musical Monday: Wouldn't it be Good?

Nik Kershaw. Fave song. Another oh-so-80's style video.



My usual Tuesday morning leadership meeting isn't happening tomorrow, meaning I can extend my stay here at the cottage by another night. With the sunshine, blue sky, gentle breeze, and utter silence, I'd have had difficulty leaving. Ate my yogurt on the porch. Then the dogs and I had a long, delightful walk. Now they're slumbering next to me on the sofa. Having wrapped up my editing and indexing work on the cookbook, I can spend the day (and night) with my novel.

How inappropriate my song choice is...because at this moment I would not exchange places with anybody else!

Sunday Stroll: Garden in Bloom

I took these photographs on Saturday, knowing I'd be here at the lake cottage today.

Rose of the Day: Yes, it's time for the annual feature. Here's Therese Bugnet, a rugosa hybrid. Like most of the roses she suffered no damage whatsoever from the December ice storm or the onslaught of Winter '09, and is a towering specimen. By which I mean taller than me. I was looking up at this flower.



Snowdon, a white rugosa hybrid, is very close by. It suffered massive damage and I had to cut it almost down to the ground. It's still alive, but only a semblance of its former self. I know from experience that it will tower again someday. And bloom, but probably not this year.

Purple lupine.



Close-up of pink lupine.



Bleeding heart is so photogenic.



The Scotch rose, Double Blush Burnet, now fully opened.



I don't even remember planting this columbine, but it's enormous this year.



White potentilla.



Cranesbill geranium.



Wild ox-eye daisy.



My late-blooming and massively scented lilac. The butterflies love it, but I didn't catch one in action because the flowers haven't yet opened. Soon!



And at the lake, where I am now, the same plant. Strangely, although it's several miles north of the Lodge, its blossoms are fully open. From its location by the back screen door, the aroma wafts into the house. Heavenly!



The Big White Boat just cruised past the dock, having already been down to the dock at the end of the Bay. I was hoping for a webcam view as it went by the Point, but the cam doesn't refresh its image very often. Here's a view taken as it departed home port earlier this morning.



Another lovely day on the Big Lake.

So glad you stopped by. To continue strolling, stop by Aisling's blog.

Memoriam

As stated a few days ago, I've lost a dear friend and fellow author. She used to pop in here and leave messages sometimes. There's so much I might wish to say about this loss, but the words won't come. The web resounds with tributes. Very few outside her family knew of the illness she kept so private. I happened to be one of them. My burden of secrecy is now lifted, but in such a sad way. I must remind myself I have many cherished memories to amuse and comfort me, and stacks of her entertaining novels--read and to be read. The final one will be published in November.

Ten years ago today I lost another dear friend and fellow author in a sudden, violent, and terrible way. And although she had repeatedly signaled the trouble that ended with her murder, it was completely unexpected and shocking. When her emails to me surfaced in press accounts, the broadcast media spotlight fell upon me but I stepped away from it, refusing any and all interview requests--20/20, Inside Edition, whatever.

For some reason I cannot help analysing the deaths of these two women who had a talent for living, a talent for mothering, a talent for writing. Each of them touched me in significant ways. Each died before her time. One peacefully, privately, surrounded by family. One on a suburban street, brutally.

How thankful I am, for the privilege of knowing them. They both set a wonderful example of creativity and professionalism and bravery--perhaps their greatest gifts to me. I need to acknowledge it, and celebrate it.

And now return to my own work, as they would expect me to do.

Wordless Wednesday: How a Bill Becomes a (Historic) Law

The First Rose

The rose season opened this morning when Double Blush Burnet, a Scotch rose and always the first to blossom, opened up her first flower.

I've just learned of a dear friend's death, a fellow author who was a great inspiration at the outset of my career. Not unexpected news, but still a huge loss. The last gift I had from her was a book about roses.

My final gift to her--the picture above.

Musical Monday: Magnapop

It's June Fools Day. First day of June and outside it feels like--um, late March? When I woke up the temperature was 42 degrees...I don't want to think what it was overnight. I slept under several wool blankets. What the cottage offers in beautiful vistas and rustic comforts and productive writing ambience and mod cons like cable tv and internet access, it lacks in insulation and thermal windows.

A brisk walk with the girls, warmed me up significantly and the mug of tea is helping also.

One of the benefits of bopping round Athens, GA during the heyday of the "Athens scene" was getting to know some of the "second waves" bands that, unlike R.E.M. and B-52's, didn't turn into household names.

Technically Magnapop is an Atlanta group, but lead singer Linda Hopper was also hopping round Athens at the same time I was. For a while she and Michael Stipe's sister Linda had a duo called Oh-Ok. I love her voice.

Here's a longtime favourite.



Merely looking over my schedule for this week is wearying, so I'm making the most of these remaining hours of solitude and secludsion.