The new book is done, been through a good edit, the next step is finding an agent(please, please, please). I spent the day hunched over the computer, setting up what agents would like to see…I miss the lawn mower.

I farm with my family. One of the best times is summertime on an open tractor, not many things are sweeter. These days the open tractor is a lawn mower, but it is me my mower surrounded by maturing corn, swallows swooping, swerving, and chasing the insects I’ve disturbed, the ancient call of sandhill cranes, and clouds drifting on by in a blue sky.

History of the Rain by Niall Williams is the first book of his I’ve read. An astonishing comment on a good book which was copyrighted in 2014. How did I miss this one?

I was writing my own, family matters, farming, and he is an Irish writer. All acceptable excuses. Didn’t know about him until I read an article on books to read through Ireland. Now that I’ve found him, I’m putting his books on my to read pile, which is already substantial.

This book is filled with literary references, book recommendations, and literary allusions. And heartaches.

The Swain family is one of those families which seems to have a rain cloud overhead always. Virgil Swain tries to escape this by going to sea, returns to the Shannon River area, starts a family determined to be different. That rain clouds open and rains for days. Virgil’s daughter Ruth sets the task of writing the history of the rain, and end it.

Hope you enjoy this well written book.

It was a red-letter day, a day of days, or however you signify a day of importance in your life. For on July 12, 2023, 949 people in St. Paul, Minnesota became citizens of the United States. What a day!

We got to the St. Paul RiverCentre a bit after 9 am. Once we were in the building, it took about an hour for the 949 to review their paperwork and the decision to become a citizen. While we waited, we guests fidgeted, searched for our special person, made small talk with our fellow guests, and waited, and waited, and waited.

Finally, when all 949 about-to-be-citizens completed their paperwork and were ushered to their seats, the ceremonies began—sort of. Announcements were made, instructions were given–this reminded me of school. Then, when the court session was called to order, the judge gave a talk–this reminded me of church. At 10:37 am, the the real ceremony began. 949 people stood, raised their right hands and recited the following oath:

“I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereign of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject citizen; that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform noncombatant service in the Armed Forces of the United States when required by law; that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law; and that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion. So help me God.”

By 10:40 am, St. Paul, Minnesota welcomed 949 new citizens to the United States. My son-in-law was one of them. Welcome to all of you. Good luck and best wishes for each of you. It was indeed a red-letter day!

Price of Passage is the story of an immigrant to the United States during the tumultuous 1850s.

The 1850s was a volatile decade: The Slave Act of 1850, Bloody Kansas, Uncle Tom’s Cabin, the disappearance of the Whig party, the rise of the Know-Nothing party, The Dred Scott decision of 1857, John Brown’s raid on Harpers Ferry.

Anders Gunstensen plans to escape the indentured servitude to his uncle. He lights a lantern, his uncle sees the light and comes to barn to confront Anders about using the lantern, then tries to stop Anders from leaving. The two men fight, the uncle is accidentally knocked unconscious, possibly dead. Anders flees before anyone can discover his uncles body.

He boards the first ship, it’s sailing for New Orleans. He meets people who he will travel with to Illinois, assists a runaway slave, agrees to work for a farmer in Illinois.

When Anders decides to homestead in Illinois, he meets another kind of servitude, he borrows money from a local lender to buy equipment for his new farm.

Anders experiences the backbreaking work of a farmer, the joys and sorrows of family life, and then the Civil War erupts with more sorrows to come.

Anders is the main character of this book, but the women are not forgotten. Kirsten Haraldsdatter arrives at her husband’s farm to find that she became a widow a week before her arrival. She decides to stay and farm the land with her children.

Maria, the woman who marries Anders, becomes a widow, but decides to stay and farm the land belonging to her and her husband.

The women face the same hardships as the men, and when they have to stand alone, the persist.

Labor Day is the unofficial end of summer. Last barbecues with friends and family. Trees turning color. The swallows gather on the electric lines to chase the bugs feasting on the ripening grain. Stores fill with families collecting school supplies. Soon September rains will fall, and the school busses will drive by past the house way too early in the morning. And the summer filled with plans comes to an end. Remembrance of those days bring a bit of melancholy, a token of the fun that we experienced. It takes a few days to store summer memories and make a list for fall, the brilliant autumn displays soon displace the joys of summer. The changing seasons are awe inspiring.

Forgot to take down the Christmas wreath before we left for vacation, this is what we came back to:

A robin’s nest. Every time we used the door, the mother robin flew away, squawking.

Did an internet search on robin and nesting, worked out that the fledgling would leave the nest around May 20–I was off by a few days.

We are missing those birds.

There are many books that I will never have the time (or inclination) to read, but how did I overlook these?

Natalie Haynes’ A Thousand Ships started me exploring recent books written about the Greek and Latin classics told with women at the center, especially the women who were the collateral damage of the Trojan War.

Elinor Cleghorn, Unwell Women, Misdiagnosis and Myths in a Man-made World, about misconceptions of female anatomy and health. This triggered one of my short stories.

Madeline Miller, Circe This earned it wow from me, how could I overlook this book about the witch and goddess Circe. Her life as a daughter of Helios, her exile, then the time spent with Odysseus and the aftermath of that affair. A deep knowledge of the world of the classic literature and an excellent imagination of how women created a life in a world torn apart by war.

Natalie Haynes, Pandora’s Jar this book was published in the U.K. before it will be published in the U.S. next year. Haynes tells the stories of the women of myths and the curtains of history as regards those women.

I agree with Natalie Haynes that the classic literature should be taught, and language (when did Latin disappear from high school curriculums?)–maybe it can start with Emily Watson’s translation of The Odyssey.

I’m looking forward to reading more of the above writers. Hope you have time to make room to read these books in this very busy life.

Every writer must have read about Shakespeare writing King Lear during a plague year. I’m sure that it was meant to encourage us to focus on our writing instead of focusing on the havoc caused by Covid-19, the divisions manifested in the elections of 2020, I’m not sure it did.

During that plague year, Shakespeare wrote his 28th play– King Lear, one more of his masterpieces.

What was my writing? A couple of kids books, a couple of short stories, a screenplay adaption of one of those short stories, finished the first draft of a novel, further drafts of that novel, research for future novels–an ok output, certainly not the masterpieces Shakespeare produced during his downtime.

But then I never claimed to be in Shakespeare’s league, just one of those stars to shoot for.

Hope you are at least hanging in there.