Lazy Days…

…for the blogger. Busy days for the gardener.

We’re at maximum daylight today. Maximum temperatures may still be coming, although we’ve had a warm spring already. And maximum drought is a certainty.

BERJAYA — Clematis “Pink Fantasy” has performed well this year. It’s been blooming for weeks.

I will be thinking about blog post ideas and my suspended-for-the-summer WIP as I lug watering cans, wrestle hoses, deadhead spent flowers, and admire the results.

All photos by Audrey Driscoll

Pole Pruner Review #2

In 2017, I wrote a disgruntled review of a combination pruner and saw on the end of an extendable pole. I wasn’t happy with that tool, because of its weight and clumsiness. But over the years I did use it, mainly in a desperate effort to control the height of a tall holly bush. After I removed the saw blade, the thing was a little more useable, but still heavy and awkward.

Now I have a new and improved pole pruner!

It extends to 10 feet (shown here not extended, so about 5.5 feet). The cutting jaws are on the end, opening upward, so it’s much easier to position relative to the branch to be cut. It’s supposed to be capable of cutting branches up to 3/4 inch diameter. Best of all, this tool is much lighter than the other one, and there is no need to pull a string (which inevitably gets wrapped around something or tangled up).

So far, the only problem I have found is that the business of extending the pole is a bit fiddly. There are five possible positions, marked by holes into which the mechanism activated by the lever clicks. The lever must pop back out after the inner part of the pole is pulled out to one of the holes. If that isn’t done just right, the jaws don’t open. Now that I’ve practiced a bit, it works well.

The real test will come late next winter, when I do battle with the tall holly bush. The topmost branches that need to be trimmed off are quite thin, no more than a quarter inch in diameter. This extendable pruner, combined with the great ladder that has replaced the orange fiberglass number (shown in my post about the old pole pruner), should make that job less onerous. Come to think of it, this tool will also help with trimming the Photinia shown with the ladder.

For those who are interested, the vehicle in the featured image is a 1978 Toyota Land Cruiser, diesel variety. It runs quite well and always attracts attention. I used to drive it years ago (hard to believe), but now am happy to be a passenger.

All photos by Audrey Driscoll

Almost Silent Sunday: Ceanothus in Bloom

When I moved back to southwest British Columbia (USDA Climate Zone 8) after twelve years in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan (Zone 3), I noticed Ceanothus shrubs in bloom all over the place. The sight was new to me; this plant was certainly not as plentiful when I lived in the region before leaving in 1980. I was enthralled by the magical blue of the clusters of tiny flowers and made sure to add the shrub to my garden. I’m fairly sure my plant is the variety called “Victoria,” appropriately named for the City of Gardens, (or possibly after Queen Victoria, for whom said city was named). I’ve noticed plants of a variety with darker blue flowers, which I would love to plant here, but sadly there is no space available.

In addition to the flower colour, the shrub is drought-tolerant and of no interest to deer. It blooms for about a month, mostly the month of May, during which time it’s full of bees and bee-like insects.

My shrub is considerably larger than the dimensions given in the description I’ve linked to above, more like 10 feet tall and wide. I have to cut off a foot or two here and there to restrain it since it’s planted near the front walk to the house. This pruning is done right after the flowers fade. A bonus is that it reblooms modestly in the fall.

These photos were taken a couple of weeks ago and the flowers are now fading. I’m happy I have the photos to remind myself of how beautiful they were, and know they will come again next year.

All photos by Audrey Driscoll

My Reading Theory

In previous posts, I have noted that there don’t seem to be a lot of scientific studies about how adults read fiction. Why do some people like some books and others like other books and dislike the ones the first group likes? Is it the words, the way they’re strung together? Story structure? Pacing? The characters?

I have read books that seemed promising, but which I thought had clunky prose or too much emphasis on specific details, often physical sensations such as thundering hearts, dramatic breathing—inevitably called “inhales” and “exhales”—churning guts, and the ever-popular “pit in the stomach.” When I post an unenthusiastic review, I see that dozens of other readers think the book is wonderful and gush about how they “couldn’t put it down.”

And yes, I have read books with quite a few typos and small errors I wave aside because the story is captivating and the characters charming or at least intriguing. I give these high ratings and enthusiastic reviews, with perhaps a brief mention of the errors. Reviews by others say things like “needs a good edit,” with ratings to match.

Why does this happen?

Writing and reading are inextricably connected. Writers are readers, after all, and understanding how reading works is helpful in crafting written works. But reading is an interaction between a reader and a book that has left its author’s hands.

In the absence of quantitative studies, I’ve made up my own theory. Am I planning to test it scientifically? No, but for what it’s worth, here it is:

Reader expectation shapes the reading experience. Readers familiar with standard book categories approach books with pre-formed expectations and read in accordance with them. They know instinctively what kinds of characters they will encounter, the pacing of the story, and the types of crises and climaxes to anticipate.

Genre fiction. Plot is paramount. The first few pages must create curiosity in the reader. Then the scenes must move along briskly, adding details and tension to an eventual climax and resolution. The plot turns must be easily recognizable, signalled at the ends of chapters to keep readers’ attention and draw them into the next chapter. Less important stuff is skimmable, and a reader familiar with the style appropriate to the genre will instinctively know what to skim.

Literary fiction. Characters, and the writing itself, are paramount. These books are meant to be read attentively to savour the prose and appreciate the inner meanings and symbolism. Skimming should not be required on the part of the intended reader.

Nonstandard fiction, i.e., neither strictly genre nor strictly literary. These books are mixtures of character-driven and plot-driven, with prose that ranges from basic to artful. They are described as genre-bending or genre-blending. They can be wonderful books, if they find the right readers. That can be a problem, because they don’t always stick to familiar patterns.

When the reading experience meets the reader’s expectations, the reader is satisfied and not inclined to pay attention to problems with the writing. When there is a mismatch, any of several results may ensue:

Confusion.
Reduced tolerance for errors.
Low rating and poor review.
Annoyance (Throw book at wall.)
DNF.
But sometimes—unexpected delight.

A few possible solutions:

Books must clearly signal (via descriptions and cover images) what they are and remain consistent with this message.
Mixed genre or nonstandard books should be described as such. Comparisons with well-known traditionally published books that are similar may be helpful, but only if whoever makes the comparison has read both books. If no such comparison can be made, terms such as adventurous, original, and experimental may be useful.
Authors should perfect techniques for writing book descriptions that are clear as to the nature of the book, yet inviting to potential readers.
Readers must become more adventurous and seek that unexpected delight. But how are authors to persuade them to do this?

Many authors write for a specific subset of readers, known as their “target market.” If they are successful, they are aware of what this reader group expects when they pick up a book, and know what they must deliver to fulfil those expectations. Not all authors are as attuned to their readers. (I actually have no idea if any definable group of readers likes my books.)

For authors who write books they believe haven’t already been written by others, and therefore must be written by them, meeting specific reader expectations is not the first priority. But no doubt they hope to attract readers for their heartfelt efforts.

Possible strategies:

Connect with authors of nonstandard fiction who may promote fellow authors’ works to their readers.
Review similar books by other authors and share the reviews in whatever way is practical.
Take every opportunity to mention mixed-genre books on blogs and social media.

What does all this mean for us as authors? Does this idea about reader expectations help anyone think about how to present their books to potential readers?

Featured image from Pixabay.

Are All “Alien Invasive” Plants Bad?

Foxgloves are beginning their bloom season in my garden. But guess what? Foxglove (Digitalis purpurea), that easy yet elegant and somewhat mysterious plant that blooms in mid-spring, has been declared an alien invasive in British Columbia. Some cities have actually banned its sale at plant nurseries.

Now there is a debate among gardeners: should we dig up our foxgloves and trash them, or should we surreptitiously share seeds and plants with those who can no longer buy them?

My thoughts: most suburban gardens are situated on ground that has been disturbed and altered from its natural state. They are full of non-native plants of all kinds. Aggressive invasives like English ivy, Himalayan blackberry, Daphne laureola, and Scotch broom are all over the place. Those are shrubs that spread relentlessly and are almost impossible to eradicate. Bindweed (Convolvulus species) is a herbaceous weed, but with roots that reportedly go metres into the ground, it’s indestructible. Unfortunately, it’s permanently established in the weedy grass of the municipal boulevard in front of my place.

Foxgloves, on the other hand, are herbaceous biennials that are easily lifted and pulled out. Deadheading by cutting down the bloom stalk before seeds mature prevents self-seeding. If it does occur, diligent weeding of seedlings will eradicate them in a season or two. In disturbed environments, a few foxglove plants added to the mix do no harm. Anyone who has them in their garden and likes them should grow them without guilt.

Pink foxgloves with dark spots, May 2025

Side note: notice how often invasive plants are given a geographic moniker. “English,” “Scotch,” “Himalayan,” etc. Sort of like contagious diseases named for the places in which they were thought to originate. Spanish flu, Lyme disease, German measles, etc. Same idea, perhaps: name the place responsible for the menace.

I remember a drive in my region one spring, along old logging roads. Foxgloves were in gorgeous bloom along those roads, a magical sight, but also a perfect example of why they have been given the alien invasive designation. Those roadsides are also full of Scotch broom, which is a much more serious invasive. It’s a shrub that produces an abundance of seeds that persist in the soil for decades. And former forests that have been clearcut aren’t exactly healthy ecosystems.

Those whose gardens impinge on natural areas or already contain mostly native plants obviously should not introduce alien invasives, including foxglove. Anyone doing an ecosystem restoration project would obviously remove all introduced non-native plants. But those of us who garden in places already full of alien plants need not worry about foxglove.

I’m a bit amused by one of the arguments against foxglove: it’s extremely toxic, we are told. One of the alternatives suggested is monkshood (Aconitum species). Fine, except monkshood is also extremely toxic. And let’s face it—both plants must be ingested in order to poison someone. They aren’t toxic on contact, like poison ivy, and they don’t jump up and force themselves down anyone’s throat. Even kids aren’t apt to eat them; plants with poisonous berries are more of a problem there.

One of the interesting things about some of the frowned-upon alien invasive plants is how many of them have received the Royal Horticultural Society’s Award of Garden Merit. Okay, I understand that some of these plants are native to Britain or Europe, and are only alien in North America and other places outside of their countries of origin. But that is definitely a mixed message!

Photos by Audrey Driscoll

Summer Forecast?

There was one millimetre of rain on May 14th. (That’s 1/25th of an inch.) It was the first rain since April 21st. There were several days in May with temperatures of 27C (80F).

Guess what garden equipment I will be spending a lot of time with in the next few months.

This is my watering system.

Most serious gardeners in my area have had irrigation systems installed. Trenches are dug, pipes and sprinklers or emitters are installed, and a large amount of money paid. Guys come to turn the system on in spring and blow it out in fall. Shockingly large water bills are paid.

I don’t have such a system. When I laid out my garden, it wasn’t a realistic choice, and now I don’t want trenches dug all over the place. I also don’t want to worry about puncturing a buried pipe when digging.

I rely on soaker hoses, two different sprinklers, and my watering cans. The rain barrel works as intended only when there’s enough rain to fill it, which usually happens in May. Not this year, though. Usually I fill it with the hose, which makes it possible to fill the smaller watering can quickly by immersing it. That’s helpful when I water several dozen pots every day or two. And yes, two of the three water bills I pay every year are also shockingly large.

If I’m less visible in the blogosphere for the next few months, it’s most likely because I’m watering something or resting up after hauling watering cans. Unless it rains…

oscillating garden sprinkler fan shaped spray watering — *Image from Pixabay*

All photographs by Audrey Driscoll, unless otherwise noted.

Old And New

The garden I write about and show photos of here was made from scratch in the 1990s. Its main features (apart from plants) are the pond, the stone-paved paths, and the trellis and arbour that divide the back garden into two sections.

This is how (most of) it looked a year ago. This photo doesn’t show the extent of decay in the wood of the trellis and arbour. It had to be braced in a couple of spots to prevent parts of it from collapsing in windstorms. The wood was covered in lichen and moss. (Note the two standard privets, especially the short one on the left.)

Replacing this structure was definitely on the Things That Must Be Done list for this spring. And the week of April 20th, it was done. From buying the material to taking down the old trellis, posts and all, to building the new one, the project took exactly one week. And it came in on budget too.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to carry out this project without a few sacrifices and some damage. There was a large plant of Winter Jasmine and some Japanese Honeysuckle growing on the old structure. They were nicely interwoven with the trellis.

The honeysuckle had to be cut down. It wasn’t possible to unwind the old stems and rewind them onto the new trellis. The winter jasmine was a tangled mass of long, thin branches. I had to remove about 80% of their bulk before I could weave it into the new trellis. Fortunately, both plants are quite vigorous (in fact, the honeysuckle is considered a weed in some places), so I’m sure they will grow back nicely.

There was some minor damage to smaller plants in the vicinity of the work zone, but nothing serious. And those two standard privets? The taller one on the right (see below) is just the same, but I had to reduce the short one drastically. Unfortunately it’s not as nicely shaped as before. And it’s in a different pot. (More about this in a future post.)

Kudos to my spouse, who did most of the work. The new trellis and arbour will probably outlast my time in this garden.

All photos by Audrey Driscoll

Silent Sunday: Pacific Coast Iris

All photos by Audrey Driscoll

Is This the End of the Golden Age of Indie Publishing?

I have called the years from 2010 to the early 2020s the Golden Age of Indie Publishing. Writers who failed to interest agents or publishers in their books, or decided not to bother with the “query trenches,” could publish those books and actually sell a few copies. They could achieve their goal of becoming published authors. Some sold far more books than others, but let’s lay that aside for the moment.

I am afraid this era is coming to an end. The reason: generative artificial intelligence.

Why? This is why:

Even before AI showed up, book sales were declining, because too many books and too few readers.
One way to ensure book sales, we are advised, is to keep publishing new books.
AI is lightning-fast at creating text.
AI text is free of typos and grammatical errors. Its native style may be flat and bloodless, but editing can humanize it.
Some authors have decided to turn most of the writing over to AI. New process: get an idea, prompt AI, edit text, re-prompt and re-edit until the text is good enough to publish. Result: a new book every month, every 2 weeks, or even every week.
Publishing platforms are overwhelmed by all these new books.
At least one publishing platform is levying fees on authors whose sales don’t meet a stated minimum, ostensibly to discourage AI “slop.”
Readers who don’t want AI slop are sticking to, or returning to, trad-pubbed books.

In mid-April, Draft2Digital notified authors who use their self-publishing and distribution services that those whose annual book sales (after D2D’s cut) are less than $100USD will be charged a $12 annual maintenance fee. New accounts will have to pay a $20 setup fee. These fees are intended in part to discourage those with plans to crank out dozens of books using artificial intelligence. (High volume production would be the only way to make such a scheme worthwhile.)

If you think about it, this does make sense. The services that D2D provides have costs. Their income consists of the 10% cut they levy on each book sale. Books that don’t sell many copies contribute less toward the costs of storing the book files and metadata on their servers. (But there are authors who choose to charge nothing at all for their books. No matter how many copies are acquired by readers, they earn no money, either for themselves or the distributor. For the perspective of one of these authors, see this blog post by Michael Graeme.)

My book sales have always been charitably described as “modest.” When I publish a new book, I make it Amazon-exclusive for three or six months and use the option of making it free for five days in each of those 3-month periods. Once I “go wide” and the novelty is over, one book purchase in a month is normal; half a dozen is a stellar event. Over the years I’ve convinced myself that’s acceptable. I don’t like social media or advertising, and in any case, I find Amazon advertising incomprehensible, so my marketing is minimal at best.

I have published nine books (one of which is a “box set” of four of the other eight), so I’ve told myself I’ve done the multi-book thing. My writing process is slow. I have been working on my current work-in-progress since last fall, and it is still a messy handwritten draft. It will be another year at least before I’m ready to publish that book. If I publish something new every two or three years, I’m doing well.

But not well enough, it seems.

Until I thought about it for a few days, D2D’s $12 per year (only a dollar a month!) maintenance fee bothered me. To be honest, it still does, because it divides the category “self-published authors” into two groups: those whose books and marketing are good enough that they can sell at least $100 worth per year, and those who don’t measure up, who are therefore failures at marketing, if not at writing. While this has always been true—that some indie authors’ sales vastly outperform those of others—now there is an externally applied label on some of us. It’s almost like being back to “We regret your submission is not a good fit with our publishing goals. Good luck on your writing journey.” Only this time it’s “Your sales are not good enough for us to keep your books on our platform for free. Twelve dollars, please.”

While I was coming to terms with the news of the D2D fee, I looked for other authors’ reactions. They were mixed. Inevitably, I ended up on Reddit, where some said it would be good if Amazon imposed similar fees to weed out the amateurs with their crappy covers who don’t recognize that Publishing is a Business, not a passion project. Like this comment: “Publishing isn’t for everyone and maybe the ‘Write for yourself’ crowd will stop throwing home made covers and ‘My friend beta read it, that’s good enough’ books up on the stores.” The implication that those who write for love rather than money necessarily produce inferior books did not brighten my mood.

How many of us indies are going to stop writing or publishing because of competition from AI-using “authors” or divisive maintenance fees? I’m thinking most of us will carry on. For us, writing is a passion and sharing our works is its logical result. So it may be that the Golden Age continues, despite a few dents and scratches. (And possibly fewer sales.)

I’m looking forward to readers’ and writers’ thoughts on this post. Please comment!

Tulip “Silver Cloud” Finale

My potted tulips have finished blooming for this year. Now I need to maintain the plants until they go into summer dormancy. Next fall I will have to decide what to do with them.

Options:

Keep all the bulbs in the two current pots.
Move the T. greigii “Serano” bulbs to a separate pot and find a pale yellow Triumph variety to pair with “Silver Cloud.”
Plant some of the bulbs in the ground instead of in pots.
Keep them all in pots, including any new types, but no longer bring the pots inside at night next winter and spring.

I’m considering the in-the-ground and leave-the-pots-outside options because I’ve left the pots outside at night for the past few weeks, and no bulbs have been dug up and eaten. I have also found a survivor (foliage only, no flowers) of the early 2025 tulip “massacre” in the garden. It may be that whatever creature methodically ate almost all of the bulbs that had grown undisturbed for decades has moved on, one way or another.

Interested readers—and I hope there are a few—may have noticed red and white ribbons around some of the tulip stems in the photo above. I attached them to the flower stems of “Silver Cloud” so I can distinguish them from the “Serano” plants after the foliage has withered. Bulbs tend to look alike, so I will have to pay attention when I dig them up and discard the foliage.

It’s amazing how much we gardeners fret about and fiddle with our plants!