This morning, a pdf of the interior of my forthcoming book, Euclid’s Orchard. And notes about how to send the corrections. Print it out, read it, and send the corrections as pdf comments. I’ve published 12 books and every time I’m surprised by how different the text looks in the capable hands of a good designer (I mean you, Setareh Ashrafologhalai!). I love the font — the late Jim Rimmer‘s Amethyst — and I’m interested to see how the photographs, most of them old family snapshots, amplify the writing. So now I’m going to read the essays and correct my errors and hope for the best. For this book about family history, about the unwritten and strangely coded stories I’ve tried to parse, and about (of course) the role of plants in my own history and reading of the landscape, it seems fitting to use a pot of roses to hold the pages in place. It’s a sunny morning, with a soft breeze. There are hummingbirds in the honeysuckle and the robins are singing the salmonberry song. I wish there was a way to encode this music into the book, and the scent of roses.