At least in Mexico Spring is here

A couple of weeks ago, I was wearing long underwear, long sleeve shirts, and sweaters daily. I sat at my keyboard with freezing hands. Then I had to switch on the fireplace until burning eyes forced me to shut it off.

This week it’s been in the eighties, and here I sit in short-sleeves and sandals.

This arrival of Spring, of sunlight and open windows and flowers blooming in our gardens, has made me realize the burden of being shut in because of Covid-19.

Most of the day I wrote and had become used to staying inside.

Now, with a fresh breeze blowing through the house, and no burning eyes or layers and layers of clothes, the outside calls to me.

During Covid-19, I could always walk around our neighborhood. Until the neighborhood became all too familiar, and breathing seemed restricted with a mask. Yet, I would always try to remember that mask.

We have hired new gardeners, who with loving care replaced soil, repotted, mulched, and fertilized. After some neglect, everything is coming back.

This coming back—this burst of colors against green foliage—pulls me into our gardens throughout the day.

Flowers sprouted in the same week I finished writing The Toltec Conspiracy, the third version of my first novel in The Clark Ransom Trilogy. Why did I write three versions of the novel (not rewrites, but different plots with a different cast of characters)? I will talk about that in an upcoming email.

Finishing it, and being happy that I wrote the novel I wanted to write, lifted a weight from me.

Months of morning anxiety to produce my daily two-thousand words had exhausted me—made me eager to write “The End.” Don’t mistake me. Creating something new is fun and always replaces that morning’s nervousness—but I needed a break.

Now, I’ll put on a different hat for several rounds of editing. Editing, however, with something tangible to work on, is easier.

Did I plan our gardens to bloom just as I finished drafting the novel? No. Yet, it’s nice to feel in sync with the universe. Or—seeing that the theme of all my novels is “Is there something bigger than us or are we simply deluded?”—I too may be delusion’s victim.

For a few days at least, I’ll let The Toltec Conspiracy rest and even enjoy the light and sun.   

Maybe I’ll even sit in our garden.


Mexican bring

I’m wondering, has anyone else found their lives coordinating with nature or the world? Write back. Let me know.


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