I feel that there is a certain poetry in the fact that my last blog post before a long silence was about the Lands Beyond. I have indeed been travelling in the realms of gold, and many goodly states and kingdoms seen (and the Pacific, too, for that matter, which is no small one since I live on the Atlantic coast of North America), but most of all I have been almost entirely preoccupied with the searching, finding, and acquisition of a house.
Well, not just a house. My One Day House.
It’s been a while since I wrote about my One Day House the one where I will have all my books finally all together in one place, and even more than that on enough shelves to hold them all and room for more, and the gardens that I have been planning in my mind’s eye for years, and art on the walls and good food in the pantry and a root cellar, and, oh, all the little things I have acquired that I didn’t yet need, saying to myself, this is for the One Day House, when I will have a hedgerow and need this hedge-laying tool I acquired at a car boot sale in the middle of my walk across England and had some difficulty getting back to Canada (though not as much as I would have had with the long-handled brush slasher the vendor tried to sell me along with the hedge-laying tool and which I had to regretfully decline); when I will have a proper table, and need this slate cheese tray; when I will have bountiful gardens, and need all these Mason jars; when I will have a hearth, and need this hand-made broom with the hand-forged metal handle to sweep it.
Well, now I have the house, and the land for the gardens, and though I don’t yet have the table I do have the hearth, and though there are not yet any hedges there are already grape vines and wild raspberries, and though I do not yet have a spare bed I do have a large teapot and many mugs. And there is, running along the far end of the property, a branch of a trail that I could take and go, oh, to the Arctic or the Pacific or the bottom end of the Appalachian Trail or even to that silent peak in Darien.
So I apologise for the long silence, but then again, every once in a while adventure comes knocking, and what kind of fantasy novelist would I be if I didn’t say yes on occasion?
I will be writing more about my stories and also about what I am doing as I start building my homely house to the west of the sea.