Dear Friends,

 Fall is magical in New Mexico. The first two weeks of October, Albuquerque hosts the International Balloon Fiesta, drawing millions of visitors from around the world. If you head to the balloon park by 4:00 a.m., you’ll catch the Dawn Patrol, experienced pilots flying through the dark to check the wind. Their balloons speed across the sky, lights flickering, while you savor a hot cup of coffee and huddle under a blanket. Desert nights are cold at the city’s mile-high altitude.

First-time visitors are shocked when they’re allowed to wander the field during set-up. Visitors wander between the balloonists, collecting picture cards and autographs from the pilots. If the Dawn Patrol signals it’s safe to launch, the “Zebras” (referees in black and white striped uniforms) raise a green flag. Row after row of hot air balloons lift off in sequence, and the sky blossoms with colorful balloons.

The crowd and pilots gather at night in the field and light their balloons by burning fuel that warms the air, inflating the balloons. As the sky darkens, the balloons glow until a massive fireworks and drone show entertains the crowd.

My favorite balloon has always been the flying pig. Somehow, the expression “when pigs fly,” aptly describes the writing journey. Will the book be finished? Published? Will anyone buy it? Perhaps… when pigs fly.

I recently finished Erica Bauermeister’s book, No Two Persons. The story begins with a young writer’s experience of losing her beloved brother, and weaves together the experiences of different readers who are changed by the book. It left me thinking about how stories influence the way you interpret your own life. If you’re looking for a good read, pick it up.

Next letter, I hope to report that the edits are finished and Daughter of the Weeds is ready for prime time. Then again, it may not happen until pigs fly!

Warmly,

Dorothy Garcia