TWO WEEKS, ALREADY . . .

. . . since we've talked and North Florida Center has another shipment of books coming; they arrive tomorrow and there's at least one unsolicited review already up at amazon.com for THE SALVATION OF MAGGIE RIDER: Stories from Nokofta. The reviewer begins " The Salvation of Maggie Rider is a great story about life in Florida" and ends. . . you will find it almost impossible to put down once you start."

Here's a description of the book's contents: In the small southern pocket of a North Florida community called Nokofta, Cauthen's men and women move through lives no longer possible since the 1950s. At home, in church or at school, along paths and roads, in woods and fields, young Maggie Rider searches for an understanding of her hometown and her own place within it. She takes stock, too, of her uncle, the brokenhearted loner, whose secret existence in a converted hen house is a mystery she has dedicated herself to solving. In these layered stories we glimpse an early 20th century Florida that no longer exists and characters--in [the stories] "Maggie Rider," "Maudie May," and "Eva's Barn" united in their timeless and compelling need to make sense of what has gone before.

The blurb above is off the back of the book; not sure it makes clear that "The Salvation of Maggie Rider" is a novella accompanied by two short stories.

Remember we are a not-for-profit endeavoring to document north Florida while there's some of it still left and your purchase of our products go toward this work. I wrote this book, then donated it as a fundraising measure; I don't personally get a penny from its sales. Many thanks to all our supporters, subscribers, and readers. Here's a Robert Baxter documentary photo just in from his walk yesterday along the Suwannee on the Florida Trail:

All best to you as we approach the end of the first two weeks of 2011; I hope your work goes well and would love to hear from you.

scauthen
NFCDS, Inc.

THE NIGHT SKY

This photo comes from my neighbor, Robert Baxter, who shot it on his walk along the Suwannee this past weekend.

Lot 22
16 September 2008

Outside, a full moon, even fuller than last night; it looks that way. The moss draperies, the faraway hoot of the owl, the crochet of crickets, the stars,planets, both yellow and white: this is my original experience, the year I lived in the trailer here and cracked the window by my small, thin mattress each night so I could fall asleep hearing all that.

Just reprinted the poetry I wrote that year--1997--collected in the chapbook, ALONE, ON THE RIVER THIS YEAR. Here's a sample:

THE FIRST SWIM OF SUMMER

A ten-foot drop from this clay ledge.
Too narrow for alligators.
Too late, anyway, for their
sunning themselves.
The wiry weeds slides from my grasp, and I fall backward
into a sky of marbled gold, a chirring
of insects; the moon, a white broach
on the evening sky. I stand--
squishing my toes in the muck--
then toss myself backward again,
a plump needle pointing north-south,
brief compass in this world
of water moccasins, snakes
thicker than vines, insistent buzz
of mosquitoes, and lightning storms.

This sweet violence we call the world.


Michael Branch’s piece in ORION has inspired me to go back to what I loved in the first place, so tonight I went down and stretched out on the plastic lawn chair and counted stars until a mosquito zoomed in. I hope we have a hard freeze this winter. Otherwise, I should tie ribbons to the mosquitoes so I can see them coming.