By Hello, you.
Thank you for being here and reading what’s going on in the woods. I hope spring has been treating you well, with lots of sunshine, blooms, and fresh produce.
For me, it has been a golden stretch. The warmth finally held and melted away the depths of winter, the green swept through the land, and I’ve actually been able to sit outside and feel like a human and not a hermit adorned in layers of merino wool.
Last weekend, my husband and I spent six hours digging and planting the limelight hydrangea garden I have dreamt about for nearly a decade. We fenced them in to give them the best chance against deer and other woodland creatures. I’ve also planted a wildflower meadow, three varieties of rhododendron, discovered peonies coming up where I’d forgotten I planted them, transplanted ferns around our firepit, filled all my porch planters with perennials (to put in the earth this autumn), and tucked two lilac bushes into the yard. My hands have not been this dirty, or this happy, in months.
I am trying my best to be Beatrix Potter-maxxing this summer.
You know—slow living, hands in the earth, long dinners on the back deck until the stars say it’s past my bedtime. Something delicious and local in the oven. Rainy and the cats basking in the sunlight. A book in the grass for the third afternoon in a row. Not one thought about AI taking over our world. That kind of thing.
So that is what I intend to do with my time this summer, which is already starting to fill up quickly with visitors, travel, and projects. Such is the curse of living in a tourist destination. But I say that without teeth. After six months of hibernation, life is beyond needed. The guest room can be filled as full as my calendar, because I am not ready to go back into the cave anytime soon. Seasonal depression bit me hard at the end of winter this year, and with the warmer weather, a natural dose of Vitamin D, and bare legs, I feel like myself again. There is something almost embarrassing about how much of my wellbeing comes down to sunlight, but I’ve stopped pretending otherwise.
That said, I am FINALLY done with my draft of [redacted title], my debut adult high-fantasy novel. I guess I have the intense Michigan winter to thank for that. It clocks in just shy of 105,000 words, and my husband continues to be the best editor I’ve ever worked with, professionally or otherwise. I also have a few friends and family members reading, and the feedback has been extraordinarily helpful. At this point in my writing career, I welcome criticism because I need feedback to evolve. This is the largest, most arduous novel I have ever written, and I am very proud of it. This autumn, once I am done applying edits, I will start querying to (fingers crossed) hopefully start working with a literary agent.
Until then, you’ll find me with dirt under my nails and something cold within arm’s reach, watching the hydrangeas decide whether they trust me yet.
Hugs, kisses, and vibrant springtime wishes,
Jessica
☾Jessica♥Malen☽ 