Slushing

I've parked myself in the Shaker rocker in the living room to read through the latest batch of slush (what a crummy word for unsolicited manuscripts, even though some of the contents are--admittedly--awful). I usually drop by the office once a week to clean out my mailbox (and slush box). Meant to catch up on Monday, but this has been a week of garden work: beautiful weather, the lindens and pears in full bloom, the first violets opening in our back yard. Ferns uncurling in the shade garden. Hostas poking up. The crabapple tree looks ready to burst, as do the ornamental cherries that grow everywhere, everywhere in this town.

Yesterday we hauled three truckloads of raked leaves and garden waste (our plus the neighbors'--an annual gift to them) to the town lot (behind the baseball fields) where the borough grinds and recycles everything into enormous piles of mulch. The mulch is free for the taking. We filled three trash cans full and got it all onto the beds by early afternoon. We need more.

Thunder and rain last night--we fell asleep with the window open just to enjoy the sounds--and thunder again this afternoon. We need the rain; there wasn't enough snow this winter and we're at a deficit.

You can tell I'd rather be outside. Poking around the garden. Starting more seeds. Reading in the hammock.

* * * * *

PA Poetry is the name of my other blog--it's new--so if you know of any readings, calls for work, special announcements for Pennsylvania-area poetry (mainly here in central PA but heck, we'll announce whatever you send) please feel free to post there--or send me an e-mail and I'll get the pertinent info up ASAP.

* * * * *