Actually about 15 minutes of them from a bobcat in our back yard. Even though we live in town, three or more miles of wilderness abut our back lawn once you cross the abandoned railroad bed, so pretty much any animal native to Maine goes through our back yard at some point. We've seen half a dozen moose, a couple bitterns. a coyote, seen bear poop an who knows how many deer. Add in twenty or so bird species and we don't lack for nature at 70 Pleasant St.

Daffodil season in memory. Our varied colors have been in bloom for almost five weeks. I mowed around numerous clumps this evening that are still sporting flowers in full glory. Yesterday, I watched from our kitchen window as gusty winds created a white cascade of apple blossom petals in a giant arc across the lawn. I am in hopes of working some serious garden time around mowing and the Maine Libraries Conference in Orono.

Six years ago (maybe longer), I entered a contest to win a free book at www.TCM-CA.com. I didn't win, but after looking over the site, I decided to apply to be one of Tami Brady's reviewers. That was almost 150 book reviews ago. Tami recently made a decision to close down the website this coming July. There's a bit of sadness for me in this news. Reading and then thinking seriously about each of those 150 books certainly made me a much better writer and probably helped me as a reader too. What I didn't expect were the positive connections, even friendships I made with several authors as a result of reading, then reviewing their books. Timothy Hallinan, Laurel Dewey, Anna Del C. Dye come to mind. In fact, Laurel's publicist just sent me her new book Betty's Garden, which is a dandy departure from her crime series.
There will always be book reviewing opportunities; Librarything, Goodreads, School Library Journal and small presses eager to get the word about their new releases, but I'll always have a sentimental attachment to TCM Reviews. The one thing I wish I were better at is calling in a marker or two and get some of the folks whose work I reviewed to read and comment on The Wizard of Simonton Pond, but that's MY issue right now, not theirs.
I spent most of yesterday completing my latest short story to be added to Hardscrabble Kids. This one is called Blue Chipper and is about Billy Wadsworth a six foot seven inch high school basketball star in danger of getting kicked off the team because of poor grades. It's based on the last idea I got from Maine librarians several years ago when I solicited plot suggestions. At 2200 words, I thought it might be one of the shorter entries, but when I finished at 5 yesterday, it had grown by another 4000 words. A lot of that had to do with the amount of romance and feeling stuff I added and I think it worked. I read the whole story at writer's group last night and everyone thought it worked, even the semi-open ending. I'm two stories away from having what I feel will be a dandy collection with a nice novella as the centerpiece.

I'm on my second cup of coffee and have already faced the dawn. When I look over the top of my monitor, I see a view dominated by apple blossoms. This is one of the three trees I worked hardest to prune in early April. Last year it, and its fellows were pruned as much as I could do with a ten foot stepladder. This year, I realized I had inherited Mom's 24 foot extension ladder, so the rehab went a lot higher. In fact on this tree and a couple others that provide extremely delicious apples, I got off the top of the ladder and climbed as high as I could to thin out the canopy. It wasn't the smartest behavior for someone my age, given that nobody was home at the time, and it did result in one nasty cut across the back of my right hand with a pruning saw, but the overall results look pretty darn good right now, Two of the three trees receiving the most attention sport twice as many blossoms as the rest of the dozen or so apple trees we have. It will be interesting to see how they fare as the growing season progresses.
Yesterday we headed out to pick up Beth's mother in Madison and then drove to Belgrade where Sara and Russ treated five moms and grandmoms to one awesome brunch. It had everything from chocolate-dipped strawberries to french toast casserole with blueberries. Suffice it to say that I was sated and semi-sedated very quickly. We stopped in Waterville for ginger ice cream (I bought, but abstained), then a stop at the natural food store in Skowhegan for black cherry concentrate. We saw a sobering sight going and coming by the Hinckley School campus. State police, rescue and local fire personnel were trying to locate the body of a woman whose car went airborne Saturday afternoon and landed in the stream that enters the Kennebec River.
What was particularly interesting was the conversation Beth and I had about creativity as we were headed to get her mother. I told her about the short story I'm working on and how the act of creating a character from nothing in just a few short sentences was so emotionally powerful. That led to talking about how many experiences and memories we generate over 60 years of living and what an amazingly vast reservoir of material that can offer someone who writes. We both agree that for both of us, photography is an extension of that need to create and share. I was walking Bernie before we left yesterday and saw a lone poinsettia leaf on the ground where it had fallen as Beth recycled the plant. The gentle mist falling at the time had left myriad tiny silver beads on it. I brought the leaf back to the porch and took several photos to see which one provided the best contrast. Here's my pick of the litter.

Beth and I went to see Gordon Lightfoot at the Collins Center last night. On the way up, we listened to Dar Williams Live to set a mood and ate at Heros, a sports pub with plentiful and wicked good food. I think this was the fourth time I've seen him in concert, but, given the haziness of my early years, it might be concert #5. 47 years, that's how long he's been doing gigs like last night. I discovered him when I was in college at Arizona State, not long after he put out his first album. That was a time for lovers of live music. There seemed to be a concert almost every weekend somewhere in the Valley of the Sun. If there wasn't something at one of the campus concert halls, then it was at the Phoenix Coliseum, Scottsdale's Theater in the Round or another smaller venue. Over a four year period, I saw more live musicians (especially when you add in Woodstock)than most people see in a lifetime. I suspect my cultural self has been much better for it.
Last night, the crowd certainly matched the performer, graceful and gray. I had the pleasure of seeing and chatting with a co-worker from my days at the state hospital who now works with medically fragile children in a group home, a perfect role for a man with his level of calm and compassion.
At first I was a bit worried about Gordon's voice, but by the third song, he was the bard I have known and loved for 40 plus years. Granted he moves more slowly, but so do I. The song selection was a perfect mix of selections covering the whole range of his work. Everyone goes to concerts hoping to hear certain songs and I'm no exception, but to hear all my favorites from a master like Gordon Lightfoot would require a concert lasting six hours. Suffice it to say that I came away sated and happy. The set design and lighting were perfect mood setters. I couldn't help but think as I was driving home that this was likely the last time I'll ever see him live, a thought that would have been unthinkable not so long ago.

I started another short story for Hardscrabble Kids last night. Tiredness co-opted creativity pretty quickly, but the germ was nicely tucked into my subconsciousness. Tonight, I went back to this new miniature world where Billy Wadsworth is coming to terms with the fact that he's not the sharpest crayon in the box and his grades are about to force the school to kick him off the basketball team.
The process of defining who Billy is, how the guidance counselor handles the task of telling Billy and how a rusty 1973 Chevy appears out of nowhere to become an important symbol of what happened to get Billy to this point in his life and then creating the girl who really matters and cares about him all came together in a magic hour tonight. I've tucked the story back in my creative area for the night. It will be interesting to see how an overnight in my dreams helps Billy move forth in his tale. Stay tuned for more.
Listening to Dar Williams live certainly didn't hurt one bit. What an angel voice she has!

First off, I have created a second livejournal page to more or less replace the Hartland Public Library website. you'll find it at http://hartlandpublic.livejournal.com/ The old website remains, but updating a website when you have limited time is cumbersome. The intent of moving content to a blog format is to make it more timely and relevant. Monday morning, I broke my new rule about not working on MY time by spending over an hour writing a post on where do readers go after the Hunger Games. I did so in part because of an elegant response from daughter Sara Beth on her feelings about the series. That, coupled with her sister Lisa's lament about where to go next, started me searching for links to websites where others had already answered this question. I found an abundance of such material and pulled a bunch together, noting which books we already owned. In the process, I discovered half a dozen we did not and used some of our Amazon funds to buy them. The response from other members of the Maine Library community as extremely positive. Yesterday, I added a posting listing the books I cataloged by genre with a brief synopsis as well as a bit of reasoning behind some of the selections. It added a little more time to the overall cataloging process, but should give our patrons as well as those at other Maine libraries an opportunity to see new stuff quickly and with, as the saying goes, some 'value-added' content.

I'm entering territory that is definitely outside my personal comfort level. I'm not a formal, meeting, shake hands, knock on doors sales-type person. I function best behind the scenes with no formal role. The last time I was actively involved in a political campaign was 40 years ago when Brownie Carson ran for congress and lost. All my public activity since has been limited to town budget committees and planning boards. Last week, I stepped outside my comfort zone when Daniel Swain, democratic candidate for the Maine house of representatives asked me to be his public relations person. It took about 15 seconds to agree. Last night we had our first strategy session here at the house and it was incredibly productive. It will allow me to use my knowledge of who in three of the five towns in our district would be good people for Daniel to meet personally, what organizations will be worth speaking to and what some of the important issues locally are.

I'm pumped! We're going to see Gordon Lightfoot tomorrow evening in Orono at the Collins Center for the Performing Arts. This will make the 4th or 5th time I've seen him live. The last time must have been close to 15 years ago in Portland and the most memorable part of that concert was the way a thunder shower synched with his rendition of The Edmund Fitzgerald.

We have another day of fairly heavy and constant rain. While it certainly affects humans, I realize while looking out my back window how many other living things can't be happy about it. Half the apple blossoms are out with the remainder almost jigging in anticipation. The bees who want to pollinate them can't get much done either and the 20 or so birds hanging around our feeders look beyond miserable, oil on feathers or not.

I have spent time after dark in two graveyards these past couple days. This is not one of my usual nocturnal hangouts, but I was hoping to catch a great shot of the full moon to use as my entry in the 2013 Level Best cover contest. Well good readers, I'm here to say that such a photo, even with a nice Canon digital camera, pretty much eluded me. Beth reminded me I should have used her tripod, but that would have crossed into the area of common sense. How foolish. Even without getting a winning moon shot, the combined experiences and eerie ambiance were worth having all those cars slow down and probably wonder what the fool with the tiny LCD screen was doing wandering among the dead. There are a lot of solar powered lights placed by gravestones in the Pine Grove cemetery. We often drive past at night, but have missed the fact that many of them change color every 30 seconds or so. The effect up close is quite something and did make for a few keeper pictures.
I had much better luck taking bee and flower photos yesterday in our back yard. When we built the raised bed garden last July, we had to move the frame a few feet away from where the old garden had been. The result this year is numerous clusters of daffodils in varied shades of yellow, white and orange. They provide a beautiful blend of nodding color when the wind blows. The creeping phlox we moved last spring has also flourished at the edge of the wall behind the house. Even the scrawny scrids of plant I expected would wither and die have managed to rebound and now form a rich runner of crimson down to the end of the wall. Apple blossoms are getting fatter and one more warm sunny day should have all 12 trees turn into giant pink and white pompoms. I am amazed by the different shades of apple blossoms, ranging from pure white to an almost red. The most intriguing aspect of spending time in our back yard yesterday was the predominant scent wafting through the air. It came from the massive collection of Johnny Jump-ups that spread all over one corner of the raised bed. They emit a subtle, but far from unpleasant smell.
The lawn got mowed and the upper half of the garden got tilled. Nothing has been planted yet, but peas will be in by Friday and once the lower half of the garden is tilled, I may get daring and put in more seeds while covering them with the white row cloth I bought last year to expand our gardening season

Too nice a day to spend more time inside. Gotta catch some close-up bee shots while smelling the apple blossoms as they open today.
I have started a second Live Journal blog to replace the library column I wrote for 4 years. That went away when the newspaper stopped printing. I think this will be as good an alternative as I can find. Today, I wrote about how to help patrons deal with Hunger Games withdrawal.

http://hartlandpublic.livejournal.com/952.html

Mr. Rogers ain't singin' no 'it's a beautiful day in the neighborhood' today. Instead, he's got tats, a 'tude and is singing something about muthas and he ain't talkin' about gettin' ready for next Sunday either.
Yesterday, my experience at town meeting was an interesting epiphany and after I de-steamed over what I still see as a slap in the face in terms of town support of the library, I remembered another line from the promises: "You will know a new freedom and a new happiness." Well, if the town as exemplified by the selectmen, the budget committee and those who attended town meeting (and there sure as hell weren't many), thinks that the library doesn't need any funding for maintenance, materials or utilities, why in hell should I worry about them either. This frees me from doing any of the things that have involved non-paid time, energy or my personal funds. Beth and I have invested at least $20,000 over the last 6 years to make the library better, and I doubt that there has been one single week where I've worked less than 45 hours as opposed to the 34 I am actually paid for. I now consider myself free from any obligation to do ANYTHING that can't be done during the 34 hours I am contracted for. I now consider myself no longer obligated in any way form or manner to use one cent of my own money to improve the library collection. Sour grapes? Maybe. Tasteless and immature? Possibly. Giving me a sense of vindictive satisfaction as I sit here on a Sunday morning in May? You bet your ass.
God knows I can use the time spent on library stuff to garden, write and listen to music. Yesterday afternoon, I told Beth about the three books living in my head that I want to complete or write. I love the immersion in our back yard and the endless challenge of seeing something there or on my travels which begs to be captured on camera. Last night, I wandered around the Ireland Cemetery trying to get the perfect moon shot to use as my entry in the Level Best cover contest. I didn't get anything exactly like I have in my head, but the process allowed me to enjoy the peacefulness of an old graveyard after dark and did help me think about what I really want to capture in another cemetery at sunset tonight.
Anger isn't necessarily a bad emotion if used wisely. I don't always do so, but I was amazed by how quickly I realized the solution to three plot problems at the beginning of Last of the Mango Firecats yesterday. I had all three cleared up between turning off I-95 and the stop sign where I turned onto Route 2 in Orono.
Further fuel for optimism comes from an article from the Washington Post May 4th edition about Martha Grimes. Here's an excerpt that should be of great comfort to anyone frustrated by things not yet done. "Thirty-something years ago, Martha Grimes was a single mom with a drinking problem. She bought vodka in half-gallon jugs. She taught English 101 at Montgomery College in Takoma Park, Md., a job she couldn’t stand. She argued so vehemently with post office clerks about mailing rates for her manuscripts — she wanted the cheaper book rate — that her son, embarrassed, preferred to wait in the car. She was in her late 40s. She had never published anything. Ten days ago, the 81-year-old crime-writing doyenne accepted the Mystery Writers of America’s highest award, the Grand Master, joining legendary honorees such as Agatha Christie, John le Carre and Elmore Leonard. She has sold some 10 million copies of her books in the United States alone. Her catalog lists 31 titles. She has been published in 17 countries. She did almost all of this after she was retired, sober and over 50."