You can see it up here on Signal Mountain: the times are changing. The leaves have turned from orange and red and gold banners into a brown carpet. We’ve already had night temps dip below freezing, so the moths no longer mob the front light. The blue-tailed skinks lurking around the door or skittering up the legs of the porch furniture have vanished.
And I hope—hope—the copperheads and timber rattlers, which I’ve yet to see, have found themselves a nice deep hole to curl up in and go to sleep. Otherwise, I’ll have to call on my five-foot tall neighbor Sandy to come over with her handgun to blow their heads off, as she did when a rattler tried to climb her steps to reach her snarling dogs. (For the record, I don’t like guns and don’t want to kill anything, but I draw the line at snakes on the porch.)
And change is inherent to this blog. Our staff has waxed and waned and waxed again to the list of bloggers you see on the left side of this page. A shout-out to Brenda, Chrinda, Eve, and Susan, who have been with me from the beginning. Later, we welcomed Ann, Deb, Janet, Jessica, Kate, Stephanie, and Sue. (Claudia Fedarko, Janet Weeks, Andrea Carpenter, and Crystal Klimavicz stayed for a while, then left to pursue other projects.) Fifteen wonderful women writers with whom it has been my pleasure to work.
For four years, almost every Wednesday, we at Readers Unbound have brought you book reviews, author interviews, craft articles, literary travel features, and more. Two hundred forty-nine of them. Today’s post, our last for now, makes 250.
Maybe it’s the English teacher in me—like the old fire station horse that still snorts and paws the ground when it hears the siren—I actually enjoy reading copy and correcting it for grammar and punctuation, as well as making suggestions to improve content and organization.
But I fear that editing this blog has become an enabler to my procrastination. You see, as much as I love reviewing books, I have my own story to tell. It sits—virtually finished—in my brain. The page is another matter. So I’m putting this blog aside for a while to see if I can do it again, write another novel. (My first book, now firmly shelved on a computer file, was my equivalent to a learner’s license.)
Meanwhile, the blog will remain “active”; that is, you can still visit the archives on the home page to find and read old articles by your favorite bloggers or click on the pages listed in the right hand corner to access live links to book signings or poetry readings or writers’ groups. Check out the Blog Roll to see what your favorite bloggers are doing, too.
Change: the one constant. Just look at sand sharing on Georgia’s Jekyll Island. That’s when tides, perhaps abetted by storms or construction, erode the sand on one island, then move it to another. You can see it at work on Driftwood Beach, North Jekyll, which is dotted with dead live oaks whose sandy soil abandoned them for neighboring St. Simons Island.
Maybe Percy Bysshe Shelley said it best:
Man’s yesterday may ne’er be like his morrow;
Nought may endure but Mutability.
And now, my dear, dear readers, it’s your turn to share: how has life changed you, or how have you actively changed your life?