A Pymian Dinner

We had a Pymian dinner tonight, what she would call a maccaroni cheese, only ours had broccoli. It is a hot, quiet evening, but the humidity has gone down. We are a drought, as we haven't for the last nine years. I have been reading about gardens, particularly those Rumer Godden writes about in her childrens and adult novels. In one of her autobiograhies, she talks of every garden she has ever had all over the world. Sister Philippa of Black Narcissus must be a kindred spirit; she plans elaborate gardens in the Himalayas, and is an expert in seed catalogs. In The Greengage Summer she writes of gardens done in three parts, from lawns, to gravel paths with old statues, to orchards of plums. There are miniature gardens and flower boxes in A Dolls House and Miss Happiness and Miss Flower, and these Godden reconstructed in real life. In her meticulous detail of gardens and miniatures, she reminds me of Pym, who in turn reminds me sometimes of the Miniature mysteries by our friend Margaret Grace. I am working on my Erzebet novel, and though the arthritis makes typing hurt, I can't seem to stop, and think about the characters all day. I took a good look at myself and my life today, and decided I felt more like Shilrey Jackson herself than a Pym heroine. Thanks to Kristen Ramsdell who called my book enjoyable and thought provoking in the second ed. of Happily Everafter. I am always pleased to be cited, and have been in several books on women's writing sold on Amazon. I have an Authors Page there now for anyone who is interested. Also reading The Belle of Amherst, where a recipe for Dickinson's Black Cake, involving 19 eggs is given, and where she talks of Emily Bronte, and says what a great day they had in heaven when Emily Bronte arrived there.