It is the time of year when I again feel the need to look up the word fallow in the dictionary:
fal·low[fal-oh] adjective
1.(of land) plowed and left unseeded for a season or more; uncultivated.
2. not in use; inactive: My creative energies have lain fallow this year.
I have never had occasion to say that sentence, though I think I’m going to trot it out. What? Work? Oh, no. My creative energies have lain fallow this year.
Overgrown gardens, overfed self, overdue-from-library pile on the verge of nightmare, but still–not ready for September. The weeks ahead are about savoring every bit of summertime joy. The before-it’s-too-late trip to the amusement park, long days at the beach, mojitos in the evening, a little gloating over the Yankees’ dominance, but not enough to jinx them. You get the idea.
This blog has some exciting stuff coming up in the fall, most especially a delicious interview with a non kidlit author you all should know (I suspect the predicted-by-Audrey success of her debut novel will ensure that).
I’m also going to be celebrating the publication of a book that includes essays by me and a few other people you may have heard of, like Sherman Alexie, Isabel Allende, Jeanne Birdsall, Dave Eggers, Daniel Handler, Ann Patchett, etc. No big deal.
And if you’re a teacher-person heading back to school or the lucky relative of a kid headed to kindergarten, the great bibliolinks website has something to say about a certain buffalo who’s doing the same.
But for now, summer.
