Another Glorious Spring of Salamanders, Shrooms, Sequins, and Scribbles
Except for the gentle dripping of rain and the periodic slow thud of wet leaves and dirt under rubber boots, the forest is silent. There is no moon, only the gleam of flashlights flickering across the shiny, water-soaked earth, reflecting off a vernal pool, the surface intermittently disturbed by perfect, round ripples that spread in widening circles from every raindrop. It is early spring. There are still scattered patches of snow in the brown leaves and our breathing creates a hazy fog around us. Surely no amphibian would brave this ice cold world?
But they do, by the dozens. Their tiny gray bodies speckled with either yellow splotches or blue, these little creatures move at a pace more akin to that of a snail than the scuttling of skinks. The first time I see one, I freeze, and so does she, as the light from my flashlight falls upon her. A thrill of excitement lances through my body, and also fear. How many of these have I missed? Is it possible that I’ve stepped on any looking for this one? Then, further away, there’s another, who waits for the glaring of my flashlight to lift before it pushes on, half-sheltered by an enormous fallen tree.
I call out in excitement and the others that have come out into the forest to witness this beautiful yearly ritual make their way over. They move carefully, slowly, checking with their flashlights before every step, to gaze in wonder at the little creature, as it starts to move toward the pool again.
Every spring this happens. Salamanders all over the world come out of their winter burrows and make their way to vernal pools, hidden deep in the forest, to create new life. Here is one of the great wonders of the universe; how these little creatures have survived for millions of years. And every year this beautiful migration happens all around us while we sleep nesciently on rainy nights, when the conditions are just right.
Every year I watch this beautiful event, and—a few weeks later—their migration back home from the pools. It is the kickoff to spring. It is such an enchanting, simple, wondrous thing. I never tire of it. Every winter I wait eagerly for the night that the conditions are perfect, and every spring when I watch them trundle away again, back to their burrows underground, I feel a sense of sadness that the event is over. But it’s not over, truly, the circle will continue when spring comes again, over and over, for as long as the earth spins around the sun. A new beginning for another generation of salamanders, carrying on in this ceaseless tradition, and bringing joy to those of us fortunate enough to bear witness to it.
Spring this year isn’t just full of salamanders, and, of course, the hunt for the elusive morel, this year it is also full of pearly, flower-shaped sequins. This spring is full of sequins because I am sewing my own wedding dress, slowly, but surely, in anticipation of my marriage to the love of my life in June. This makes for an exciting, but stressful few months. Our human mating rituals are, unfortunately, not so simple as a walk to the pond in the dead of a rainy night. Of course, all this slow, careful sewing puts a little damper on reading, and writing as well. For reading there is always the audiobook, and I think this will be the year of the audiobook, given how many I’ve listened to already, still with hundreds more sequins to sew onto the dress as it slowly takes shape. The making of the wedding dress is an exercise in patience, trusting that even when I spend an entire day on it, and then feel as if I’ve done nothing, still, it is coming together, and it will be ready by the day of our marriage.
While I’ve found a way to make reading happen while sewing, I haven’t yet found a way to write as I sew, but I dabble with the idea of dictation, something I use at work already. For now, however, I let the adventures of my characters play out in my head while I torture my fingers with needle pricks. Prior to this project becoming so all-consuming, I did manage to finish the first draft of a sequel to Firefax, which is encouraging, though a great deal of work yet remains.
Firefax also recently won a silver award from Literary Trojan for April, featured in the Midwest Book Review February edition, and received 5 stars from Reader’s Favorite, all of which is encouraging for me as a writer to keep going!
In other news of scribbles, my second book—unrelated to the deadly Firefax family—is coming out in July! July 24th, 2024, to be exact, the 265th anniversary of the Battle of La Belle Famille, around which the tale revolves. I am, of course, looking for ARC readers who would like an advance copy in exchange for an honest review. If you’re a lover of historical fiction, with an interest in a story about family, war, danger, courage, and survival in a harsh wilderness, please let me know (amvergarawrites@gmail.com). I’m happy to send you an early digital copy for your reading enjoyment.
Until next time, I hope you enjoy this beautiful spring, and the new birth taking place across this hemisphere, and all the loveliness as life begins to unfold from the darkness and cold of the last few months. All things made new again.
With gratitude and in solidarity,
A.M. Vergara