Jackie's April message continued . . .
April is a civilised month, when crops politely wait for you to notice them. If only the swimming hole was thermally heated, so we could still swim without freezing off our extremities, it would be even perfecter. (Yes, I know there isn't such a word, but there should be.)
The wombats are so fat they are rolling down the hills, and Mothball wombat hasn't bashed up our garbage bin for weeks, intimidating us till we fetch her rolled oats. Young roos are loping with teenage awkwardness up the new driveway, and George the echidna spends most days snuffling under the pot plants for ants- I suppose they are especially succulent well fed ants under there.
It is very very good to be home. I've just come back from Adelaide, and Victor Harbour, which was unexpectedly beautiful- golden headlands and granite islands and weathered comfortable buildings- but every time I discover another place that is beautiful I forget how lovely it is here, till I get home.
And here it is all so familiar, and that is exciting- watching the predictable and the unexpected changes from season to season. (The currawongs returned today. Their call is subtley different in autumn, and the red browed finches have finished the new nest in the mutabilis rose outside the dining room window, and there's a carpet of silver eyes feeding on grass seed outside my study)
Books and Workshops
So what is happening on the work front this month? Absolutely no books whatsoever coming out, which makes a change, and apart from a talk at the National Gallery in Canberra (on Monet and Japanese gardens) no journeys anywhere either, which is also good, because May will be hectic. (Sydney Writer's Festival, Bendigo Writer's Festival, and a few days in Bega)
I'd put this time aside for working on Phredde and the Temple of Gloom, which I'll be very dutiful and write first (also writing the Phredde books is fun- I just sit and giggle...a contrast to writing Blood Moon ( the sequel to In the Blood ) where Bryan had to knock on each wall as he gradually approached the study, because if he took me by surprise I'd scream and lunge behind the desk. It was very easy to get carried away by Blood Moon, but I'll enjoy Phredde.
But down in Victor Harbour I got an idea for another book, the sort that nibbles at your conciousness and then takes over. It needs more thinking about, but not an enormous amount- all sorts of ideas have come together, so the book arrived almost fully fleshed. It'll be good to really be able to get to work on it.
In the Garden
The caterpillars are eating one patch of brocolli, and the rest is totally untouched- yet another vindication of how effective disguising your plants can be.
The spinach- English spinach, not coarse silver beet- is big enough to pick without feeling like you're performing infanticide. The dahlias are fat and blousy and look like they're quite happy to nap for a three or four months, thank you, and the pomegranates are so perfect that I wonder- as I wonder every year- why every garden doesn't have them.
April Recipes