Last week, I went to Skylight Books to hear Myriam Gurba read from her new book, Poppy State: A Labyrinth of Plants and a Story of Beginnings. I arrived too early, so I loitered around the store, flipping through the book until the audience started to populate and I eventually saw some familiar faces. All women from my Los Angeles literary life.

Myriam started the reading by asking people to name their favorite plant in exchange for a satchel of California poppy seeds. I offered “mugwort” as an answer and received the little pouch of seeds, which are still waiting to be scattered in a neglected patch of dirt in my yard.

The event alternated between Myriam’s readings and interview questions from Olga García Echeverría.

Poppy State was a good book to reading during witching season, populated as it is with plant rituals, mythical figures like the Tlahuelpuchi and Xochipilli, offerings to Sequoia trees, river spells, hill monsters, and corn mazes (“It’s my maize maze,” Myriam said). It made me want to revive my garden and harvest the figs, persimmons, jujubes, lemons, apples and pomegranates ripening beyond my windows. It also made me want to revive the backyard reading series I once organized.

Ten years ago, Myriam and I met up at my corner bar to plan an outdoor reading. She suggested a November date and a Dia De Los Muertos theme. We invited readers and set up an altar. I strung up a garland of lights between my house and the storage shed. It was the first event of what I started calling the Pomegranate Reading Series.

It was interesting to be at the Skylight reading last week and remember that reading ten years ago. Olga was also one of the readers. So was Wendy Ortiz, who was also in the Skylight audience. I sat next to Sehba Sarwar, who had read at a Pomegranate Reading a few summers later. The evening was a reminder of how lucky I am to know so many inspiring women writers in my circle. It was also a reminder of how much time has passed, how much has transpired in those ten years.

I think about the passing of time enough that I have a reputation for it among the people in my close circle. I’ve thought about it even more since my dad died. This season feels heavy with years.

We are entering my favorite half of the year to be living in Los Angeles. The five months out of the year when I can hear myself think. When I feel most poetic. Three of my five tattoos were done in October and one was done in November. My dreams become more vivid. It’s the time of year that calls me to dry a bundle of lavender, make a kale soup, light candles, read something haunting. It’s time for more poetry under the fruit trees.

If you’re celebrating Halloween, Dia de Los Muertos, All Saints Day, or All Souls Day, may you be haunted and delighted!

Halloween reads

How metal is the past? by Margaret Killjoy
The ancient roots of Halloween by Jessica Jernigan
This corn mazes episode of the You’re Wrong About podcast.

Scheduling change

After today, this newsletter schedule is switching to Monday mornings.