Root Rot and a Hedgehog

Rainy day drafting in Arbor Fall Festival, and a glimpse at the garden

The air outside hung heavy with the promise of rain. And not just for today, but tomorrow and the tomorrow after that.

As the rain tapped against the window and the thunder shook our ceiling fan, I cuddled under a warm blanket, lights out, listening to the soft snores of my one year old snuggled on my chest. Though I long to sleep with him, I just as badly long to write stories - especially rainy stories about emotional clouds and helpful wind and little blond boys learning to fly. So here I am, phone silent and in dark mode, typing to you after a decent session of drafting an additional chapter of Arbor Fall Festival (Charlie in the Clouds will be my bedtime reward).

I’m curious how your Spring has been? Has the cold finally begun to thaw where you live? Perhaps you’re halfway to summer already living under 80 degree skies.

For us, it has been a rainy first half. The garden, well some of it, lifts it little green arms to the heavens. Grateful to say the least. Especially the roses. Other parts of the garden simply refuse to grow, no matter what we do, no water, lots of water, grow dances with flower petals, even reading stories to them. I’m blaming the rain and over water — I’m afraid it might be root rot. And root rot, though terrible for the garden, inspired today’s drafting session.

I was reminded of a tiny but wholly significant character in Arbor Fall Festival — a creature with a grumpy face and a small, worn out briefcase, the hedgehog.

In this story, the hedgehog isn’t kind nor does he make a good decision, he turns his back on a kindness offered to him for fear of change¹. But he is the character that points our little lost bird on the right direction. I’m not sure if this redeems him (at least not in this story) but it had me thinking…that even in this story the hedgehog’s word still has value because they are coming from a kindness offered to him by a consistently noble character.

Anyway, this (possible) root rot in the garden inspired me to write more of the hedgehog and here’s a little bit of it:

“Each winter morning the crisp cool breeze, the whirling leaves, the soft skies hovering above the rows of his trees called Mr. Farmer Jacobs from his home. The taste of winter’s chill, the promise of a quiet and a still fulfilled swirled in the lavender skies above.

…

With the brothers in gentlemanly coats far from his mind, Mr farmer Jacobs instead wondered of a different kind, the creature with a grumpy face and a small, worn out briefcase. Had the hedgehog from the autumn found a home at the bottom of a tree? Or did he still wander aimlessly, grumpily, for a place to be? Perhaps this hedgehog wouldn’t mind his trees next spring.

He removed his hat to wipe the sweat dripping from his brow and hoped the hedgehog knew his way back, even now.”

Goodness, there’s a lot more work to do, but I’m eager and grateful. I’ve begun writing some of the back matter (ahem the acknowledgments page), and the tears just won’t leave me alone. Also, I’m afraid I’ll leave a very importa—

—Oh, he’s begun his little wake up wiggle. Goodbye for now. Until next time.

All the lovely things,

JH

1. Mr. Hedgehog digs up a little root named Fred. Hence the root rot connection.