Impermanence, and the more things change

It’s not surprising, at the end of the High Holidays, that my thoughts turn to change. Return again, we sang, return to the land of your soul. So I mused last night as I picked the last of the tomatoes from my drought-stricken garden, sharp, intense tomatoes that had survived weekly waterings with water collected from the shower as it warmed up. We plant our gardens in the spring with the optimism that they will grow and thrive and that we will be here in the fall to harvest them. And so it was again for me this year. I am blessed.

I am entering the autumn of my life as I approach the milestone birthday of 60. I am still producing the sharp, intense, drought-farmed tomatoes of life, to slaughter a metaphor, and I am content. Autumn has a whiff of ending, of sorrow to it, but it also has the intensity of harvest and celebration. Nothing, no one is permanent, so today I am entering the harvest, the Sukkot (Succoth) festival time of my life with joy.

This past weekend, while I attended the wine-harvest festival of Amador Big Crush, my newest book, The Duel for Consuelo, sold over 1000 copies. Sure, it was on sale, and on #bookbub, but for any and every reason, it sold madly. It hit #1 on the paid Kindle Jewish American books (it’s about Mexico in 1711, but there is a Jewish theme) and #17 in the enormous category of Kindle Historical Romance (there’s a love story in there too.) Whatever the category, it was up on top. Now, as the rankings ease down, as they must now that the sale and bookbub are over, I feel a loss, an acknowledgment of impermanence. The book is still wonderful, and costs less than a latte…

But I must return to the harvest. Enjoy the bounty of last weekend. Feel the joy of the grand sale, and return to the quiet of my life. I have such blessings–seven books, a great job, a fabulous husband, two terrific kids, my sister, her boys, my house, my garden, and yes, the next book is writing itself. But I see an easing of ambition. I have achieved what I strove for. It’s time to celebrate my harvest, impermanent as it is. Impermanent as we all are.

Earth day scars

I was 15 on the first #earthday, in 1970. Yes, true confession! And I was one of the young participants in this very first day. I tried to speak in front of my high school class, but those were different times and Earth Day was seen as some radical hippie type event, something else we were against, along with things like the Viet Nam War and the Draft, something else we were for, like legal abortion and Civil Rights.

So a group of us went out to pick up trash in front of the school. Such radicals, girls in school uniforms picking up garbage! A pull tab (remember those? they were vicious tabs of metal pulled by a ring, in order to open soda cans) came through the garbage bag and sliced me on the forearm.

My sister put a bandaid on it while I tried not to faint. I was a squeamish little brat… and I still have the scar. Happily, Earth Day is now a world movement. Let’s unite once again to try, somehow, to preserve Mother Earth. Check out this link for a more complete and less personal history of Earth Day: