Again, I've been fighting off the Pre-Release Doldrums caused by the Invisible Author Syndrome. I tell myself I should be out pimping Mobry's Dick, then ask myself, Why? Who gives a rip? (Yes, it's entirely possible I have too many selves and they don't know when to shut the eff up!) Hopping over to Goodreads wasn't a good idea, since (a.) I still have no clue what role authors play in the m/m group and (b.) that group makes me feel even more invisible -- which, as I suggested above, is not conducive to enthusiastic book pimpage.
Solution? Piss on it. Let's go flower shopping! Up until now, we've had a weird spring -- warm in April, cold in May (especially at night) -- and the only blooming plants on our acreage have been dandelions and some rather pathetic lilacs. But things are looking up, at least on the weather front.
So off we went to the flea market. Back we came with blooms. Since nighttime temps won't be above 50 (F.) for another few days, I only felt comfortable making up some hanging pots; they can easily be carried indoors when darkness falls. But soon, the rest of the flowers, along with bean seeds and tomato plants, will go into the ground. I've also been seeing sandhill cranes, Baltimore orioles, rose-breasted grosbeaks, and hummingbirds. They're seasonal visitors, and their appearance always means "sumer is icumen in." Or is about to, anyway. Plus, the jack-in-the-pulpit is opening, the ferns are unfurling, honey bees are buzzing about, wrens and bluebirds and barn swallows are darting in and out of their weathered houses and fresh new nests, and daylight lingers.
It's amazing how revitalizing nature can be.
Now, if it could just get me to pimp that damned book . . .