Dasher the dog had his 10-day suture check-up, and the surgeon is pleased with the results so far. Which means that neither the dog nor I are dead, or maimed, from those days. This is certainly worth celebrating! Also, he’s off the painkillers whose side-effects included “seizures.” Since his development of seizures messed up the first surgery, and the second had to wait until the anti-seizure meds took full effect, repeating this painkiller for a week meant that no, I did not much sleep at night, waiting to hear the sounds of my dog seizing in his crate. (*shivers!* It’s a terrible thing!) All in all, time for a mini-celebration, I think! Fortunately, the weather agrees, and Dasher is lying in the lanai, sunbathing and blissing out, while I type away in the shade here at the table. A pretty fair celebration, to my mind. 🙂
In totally unrelated news, a Carolina wren has made a nest in the hanging basket spider plant on my front porch. I discovered this when I went to water the plant and something tiny rushed out, scaring the tar outta me. Once I realized it was a bird, I climbed on a chair and peered inside the pot. The nest is woven over with a roof, and four tiny eggs rest inside. Now I need to figure out how to water the plant while not harming the eggs/babies, or peeving mama too much. (hint: suggestions welcome!)
At the farmers’ markets, the seasons are slowly changing. The lettuces are thinning, slowing down. The strawberries, which burst out early this year (or so I’m told), are still going strong, and the tomatoes are starting to appear. Even the varieties of oranges are changing, as the late-maturing ones replace those that ripened early and are now gone.
In my own garden, the lemon tree still clings to about a dozen growing, enlarging green fruits, and new blossoms are set to burst open into sweet-smelling delights soon. Tomatoes are growing tall and setting blossoms, while basil sprouts are still growing with extra care in a starting medium. My garden-bliss is waxing.
My writing is experiencing changes, as well. I’m close to the end of the first draft of “the novel that will not end.” Considering that this was meant to be a 90-day novel and, due to a great variety of reasons, turned into a year-long novel, this is a relief. It’s also, I continue to remind myself, not a failure. Most novels take time to write, especially as I had to fight my “short-story” tendencies. A novel is very different from a short story. Right now, I’m caught between the two, and it’s an uncomfortable place to be. Novels have always had my heart, but a good short story can resonate just as much as a longer work, and be so much faster to read (and, usually, to write).
And speaking of the novel, my characters are calling me to come, finish their story. They want to be out of the terrible place they’re in, and I want to free them from it, as well. For once, we’re in harmony. And the dog is drowsing.
Happy last day of March.