Monday, September 8th.

Chilly. The coldest morning since last spring. But I slept well, and that is a blessing.

There was a full moon last night. The night forest was illuminated in cold light. There were no colors. Just grays and whites. But every branch and boulder was defined.

The cold is coming. There’s so much to do in the gardens. So much to do everywhere. I have difficulty with priorities. It is hard for “things which should be done” to compete with things “I want to do.”

Darkness comes earlier each day. When I got home from the penance duty at the book warehouse last night, I decided I should empty the truck of mulch. I hadn’t finished mulching the Throne Garden, so that was first.

There were some jagged rocks from the warehouse excavation a couple of years ago. I’d put those on the blanket covering the mulch in the pickup bed. They were lying loose atop the giant boulders we moved from the excavation. They were caked in mud, and I left them to let the rains rinse them off. I’d forgotten them. Those I drove down to the Mulch Road I made. There are garden beds lined with the same kind of jagged rocks down there. That’s where they belonged.

Then back up to the garages on the lower level of the house. There are beds there filled with ginger that’s become invasive. I’ve saved some large flat shipping boxes that once held about 20 Folio Society Letterpress Shakespeare volumes. Why I saved them, I don’t know. I decided to start using them to cover the ginger. I put the rest of the mulch atop them.

Then I felt justified in calling it a day.

The weekend? That’s my holy time. I can work virtually alone in the giant warehouse and “do what I want to do.” Scrolling through thousands of books. Separating the wheat from the chaff.

Getting the charge in my mind from the occasional unexpected discoveries time after time after time…

Am I doing something wrong? Should I be spending more time with people?

My three dogs are on the bed next to me. It is nearing 8. I should rise and shower and get them ready. Pip will go with me. He has a vet appointment at one. I was almost in tears when I picked up the prescription on Saturday morning. I was having trouble getting it filled. I think the pharmacy is suspicious of painkillers for animals. I took it to the Walgreens across the street. The young woman at the counter was optimistic. She’d turned me away a few days earlier. The paper Rx I took in was just like the others I’ve taken in monthly for about a year. This time, she showed it to the pharmacist out of my sight and returned. “The prescription has to have the doctor’s office address handwritten. The doctor needs to print her name beneath the signature.”

“The address is printed at the top of the paper.”

Didn’t matter. I took it back across the street to the vet office. I’d written my instructions on the back of the prescription. The aides behind the counter were incredulous. I told them, “I’m just the messenger.”

After the long day with books on Saturday, I stopped at Walgreens on my way home. I only had one pill for Pip’s cough left at home. What if I’d been refused? There was nothing I could do on a Saturday. The young assistant had promised to call me if there were any problems when I dropped the paper off that morning. I approached the counter with trepidation.

“It’s not here,” the same young woman said.

“I only have one pill left at home.” I nearly sobbed.

She went back to the hidden pharmacist for about fifteen minutes. I stood there, tears welling, thinking about my companion’s time left together. Palliative care? Hospice?

She returned. “We don’t have enough medication on hand to fill the whole amount requested. Do you want those?”

“Yes. Please,” I begged.

When I got home, I called Pip awake. He was sleeping on the towels in the indoor pen. He raised his head and slowly, awkwardly raised himself up on his three working legs. (I think sometime I will come home and he won’t raise his head at all.) He stumbled out of the pen and followed me to the side door. There, I lifted him and carried him down the steps and set him gently on the pavement. He collapsed onto his belly and struggled to rise. Then he hobbled into the flowerbed and squatted.

Well, we will go to the doctor this afternoon and see what she thinks should be the course going forward. Poor little guy. His spirits are good. I don’t think he knows he is sick.

It will be a massive week.

We are driving down to Gaithersburg to view the situation. There are two more small walls to come down, and then we can start re-erecting the existing bookcases into long straight rows. Most or all of the bookcases still standing will have to be moved or turned.

It will be good when it is done.

When will it be done?

Such a beautiful day. 65 and sunny.

Up on the mountain, I noticed the ferns are beginning to yellow. Soon they will brown and die, and you’d never know the carpets covering the forest floor now ever existed.

The first few thousand books on Saturday and Sunday were fun. Then it became work as I raced against the clock. I can’t stay much past closing time—5 p.m. By then I am toast. More mentally than physically (see the mulch escapade above.) After thousands of impressions batter my brain, it gets a little careless, distracted. It tells me, “Time to go.”

Last Thursday, I took my son and his family to dinner. We met halfway, and I suggested Ruth’s Chris. It has been so long since I’ve had a great meal. They deserved it too. The two babies (almost 2 and the other 9 months) behaved very well. The food was wonderful. I splurged on a filet cooked “Pittsburgh” style. There was enough leftover that I had it for dinner for the next two nights. I got to take the spinach home as well. It was even better as a leftover.

I gifted him some books and an eggplant from the warehouse garden.

The garden is flourishing, but because I got things in so late (because of the car wreck), I haven’t gotten any tomatoes and only a few hot peppers.

I’m watching The Rings of Power Season 2 again. Is this the third time in a year? It is difficult to follow. Time jumps around. There are maybe 9 plots to navigate as well. Often some of these plots cross into one another. And sometimes I think the incongruities are not always my failure to understand.

We are getting off at the exit.

I hope we can get the contractors this week. There are other things I hope for this week. If so, there will be clear sailing down here for a while. I need that.

Hurdle #1 cleared. One contractor will be in tomorrow night to remove the final two walls in the old section.

I sent a groveling text to Contractor #2 about Wednesday.

I instructed Patrick to not put any more books in the old section, as every book in there will likely have to be moved. He was given carte blanche to cull all kinds of books from the shelves in the old section. Duplicates, attractive colors for Books by the Foot, ALL “popular” trade paperbacks and any kids books he wants. Everything we can get out of there in the next couple of days is material we won’t have to move and then re-shelve.

WHEW! Fingers crossed.

Now back to Frederick to “begin” my hectic week.

Tuesday was 48 degrees. It was cold in bed. The dogs were pushing in closer. I made coffee while writing a long journal entry. The week will be hectic. It is a getaway week. I hope.

People are already ordering Christmas boxes of kids’ books. This is a great way to help rescue books for very little money per book. Consider giving them to schools, shelters… These usually sell out.

I have a doctor’s appointment at 9:45. That meant there was time to kill up here. I forced myself out to do some yard work. First, some soil needed to be added behind the wall that was built last winter. There needs to be enough soil to reach the top of the wall. Otherwise, anything I plant would be invisible. Then I dug up some bleeding hearts (they are disappearing, dying off), columbines, balloon flowers. I had to carry water down the slope to them. (That evening, lungworts and hellebores were added.)

This task has been put off all summer. First because of injury. Then because work was all-consuming. I go in seven days a week unless I’m away. Still, there’s no getting caught up—much less getting ahead. Sometimes it is exciting—treasure hunting and the satisfaction of rescuing books and other physical media that would certainly be destroyed if we didn’t do what we do. Sometimes it is drudgery—slogging through musty old books that have somehow survived in someone’s basement. It is hard work. Handling thousands of books every day. It is mentally taxing as well. Reading thousands of spines (if present—LOL) or title pages and copyright pages. The mind has to make thousands of instant decisions. Which direction should this book go in? Stores, internet, Books by the Foot or, if there is no other choice, to recycling.

We’ve expanded the 5 for $5 sections—especially in Gaithersburg—for books, CDs and DVDs and LPs. All the stores have separate 5/$5 kids’ book sections. Selling a book for a buck in 2025 is not a break-even proposition. They also compete with our regularly priced stock. But something inside me rebels whenever we can’t place a viable item. Charities? We buy their leftovers. They don’t want ours.

I also had to cut down a lot of redbud saplings that were growing up against the driveway. For some reason in recent years, the redbuds have been sprouting volunteers all over the grounds. I’ve transplanted over 100 and am always looking for another place to put one. These couldn’t be dug up. I tried. The edge of the drive is lined with rubble with gravel underneath. Saplings far enough away from the pavement I pruned to try to get them “trained” away from the driveway. All the cuttings were put in the truck and added to the microhabitat “pile” I’ve started toward the base of the drive. Deadfalls were also stacked there. It neatens the forest floor and creates shelter for small birds and other animals. As the piles decompose, more material is added.

The deer overpopulation has decimated the understory in the forests. If animals can’t hide underground or up in the canopy, they’re exposed to predators.

This year has been a bumper year for nut trees. Acorns have been dropping with thumps and “cracks” on the driveway where I park nearly constantly. So far they haven’t struck me, but when one pings off a vehicle, I cringe that it will leave a tiny dent. They have done so in previous years. So the vehicles now get parked under less problematic trees. There’s no space up here that doesn’t have some tree cover—except the house. And that needs period pruning to keep branches from overhanging it.

The nuts… there’s also a beautiful shagbark hickory in the lower end of the garden surrounded by the driveway.

The pavement below it is littered with chewed-up shells. Something is eating the nuts up in the tree and dropping the remains. It must be squirrels, but I’ve seen none. Maybe it is flying squirrels which are nocturnal. I’ve only seen a few. They are precious!

When trees have bumper years, it is called a “mast.” There are various theories about why this happens.

It is a mess. An interesting mess, but a mess.

Then it was time to drive down to see the new doctor. I’d been worried (sometimes terrified) about some new symptoms I developed after the car wreck. He put my mind at ease. “No smoking, cut back on alcohol, eat the Mediterranean diet—olive oil…” I left with some confidence going forward though…

It is Wednesday morning. 48 degrees.

Maybe I’ll transplant some hellebores before going into work. There are hundreds of seedlings. Strange. They cost so much at nurseries. Maybe I should pot them up and sell them.

Wonder Book & Hellebores.

Yesterday, I spent hours going through old statements. The accountant is pressing for breakdowns. Taxes will be due soon. The company has already paid (or prepaid) a huge amount this year. When the bank statements come, I worry. Will there be enough to cover the four/five-figure rents, bills, the massive payrolls, other taxes…

We met with the health insurance people last week. Eight people sitting around a table. We have a great company. I think the people like the coverage. The numbers and choices are mind-numbing. It doesn’t affect me. I’m no longer eligible. I tell the management, “You decide what’s best.” Since they actually use it. The good news is it is not going up very much THIS year. Still, it is a huge bill each month.

(The original goal of these stories was to tell the tale of bookselling at the end of the 20th century and as the 21st progresses. The work and the costs of things that have nothing to do with books are a large part of that tale. I hope it isn’t tedious or sound whining. It is what it is and takes up a lot of time and resources.)

That said, our 45th anniversary will occur in the next ten days. Looking back at those days, I can’t imagine getting here from there. The one-man show with the “one man” being clueless about business and anything but common books.

I don’t think it could be done the same way in 2025. I could never have afforded the permits and engineering layouts and plans and whatever else is required nowadays. I certainly wouldn’t have qualified for a loan for such a quixotic endeavor. No. I wouldn’t have qualified for any loan. My parents were dead, and there were no grandparents or other relations who might fund a folly.

The weekend… with health worries and pet worries hanging over me, there still was nothing to do but sort books.

When I looked out the kitchen window on Saturday morning, there was a huge black snake curled up next to the wall. I thought I had filled all the cracks in that wall using rubble and spray foam. I went out with a broom to prod it so I could see its hideyhole. It was not pleased. There are a number of species of black snakes, but I think this was a pilot snake. They can get up to 6 feet long.

Yet another Saturday and Sunday devoted to finding the best results for thousands of books set aside on carts with blue slips of paper with “CHUCK” printed on them.

My knee is still not 100% from the car wreck last June. In mid-afternoon, I brought a chair with wheels on it from the office and finished both days reviewing the books seated.

Many of the books this week were problematic. There was a collection of “collectibles” from a charity book enterprise that shuttered some months ago. They’d put these aside over time and now needed to part with them. Some were nice. Many were nothing special. They’d saved a lot of ex-library books. Great titles. Modern. But with library markings defacing them. A dilemma. Still, there was nice stuff. It was a good cause. I decided we could pay about $25 a box.

When I quit on Sunday evening, another massive pile of boxes had been built, filled with books for the three stores.

Wednesday

On our way to Gaithersburg. It’s raining? The forecast said no rain til next week, and then it was low likelihood.

I’m going there to return to my carpenter days.

The bookcase erector contractor is not available til next week at the best.

We are going to remove some of the downed bookcases that we know won’t be used in that store again. My old mentor Carl was, shall we say, impecunious. A lot of the bookcases are oddball concoctions he repurposed from house calls. The remaining bookcases are screwed together so they can’t topple over. Even though they are resting on their sides. We will unscrew the “bundles” and extricate them. When all the bad bookcases are out, we will consolidate the remaining ones and screw them together.

The Romance of Being a Used Bookseller. It is a life of ease. Work an hour. Take a three-hour lunch. Work an hour. Then a nap before checking in and letting people know I’m done for the day.

Well, it is not great, but it is a lot better. We filled up a truck with bookcases that we won’t be able to use again.

Thursday

The stress is building.

There are too many things that aren’t going forward.

Dogs, leases, construction, impossible backups, huge tax bills…

Despite the stores’ sales going up, they are still not breaking even. All of our costs have gone up substantially. The warehouse carries most of the load to keep this thing afloat.

I brought Merry and Pip in to work. Pip’s hind leg has recovered somewhat. I took them out to do their business. That reminded me of the hundreds of hours they would chase balls on the bill dockyard lot.

Poor Pip is mostly blind and lame, but Merry is still a dynamo.

Sigh…

Ernest and I are going down to Gaithersburg. This is the third time this week. I was there every day last week, I think.

There are reasons there aren’t more businesses like ours in the DC region. Maybe there’s nothing like it anywhere else.

What are they? Mostly costs.

It has required grueling creativity to keep this thing afloat through all the changes and challenges that have snuck up and punched us in the nose over the decades.

“Necessity is the mother of invention.”

What’s next?

It is a beautiful day. The sun is shining. 72 degrees.

I need to go to the Gaithersburg store to see if we can mitigate further the disruption from wall demolition.

I don’t want the customers or staff inconvenienced. I don’t know when the reconfiguration will begin. Stacks of bookcases piled on the floor are not attractive.

Worry.

Stress.

There’s been a screech owl wailing nearby the last few nights. It is a haunting painful cry. It doesn’t help with the elusive sleep I’ve been seeking for many days.

Sigh… And I don’t have the option of walking away.

Well, we are here. Let’s see if I can brainstorm a “fix.”

On the way back.

It was much better than I thought.

We’ve sent staff down from the warehouse almost every day to cull duplicates and old-dated stock. Lightening the load will help with the moving and relocation of almost every bookcase.

The Gaithersburg staff has been amazing. They’ve faced constant changes and rearranges and book pickups… (When the contractor takes down a section of drywall, he must first empty the bookcases against it before he can take down the bookcase and get to the wall.)

I texted my thanks for coming in yet again for a late demo so the customers won’t be inconvenienced.

I’d spent much of the morning brainstorming in addition to culling. Then I saw it. There was enough space along a row of support pillars to put in a temporary row of bookcases. That would solve two problems:

1. The piles of bookcases could be cleared by standing them up.
2. We would have a lot of shelving to absorb all the displaced books.

I texted the contractor again.

“Do you think you could…”

He replied yes. He didn’t say when, but I was relieved that this quick fix could be accomplished.

Maybe, just maybe, things will come together.

Friday

A getaway day.

The stress of the hundred things I need to do pressured me to get up well before dawn to work on this story.

The sunrises will likely move into view next week.

I wonder what got accomplished overnight at Gaithersburg. I guess I’ll find out around 10.

Some beautiful books came through this week.

This stunning vellum folio with a handpainted spine is a treasure.

Sadly, although the book is nearly perfect, the slipcase has some old tape “repairs.”

And three Kelmscotts!

One has amazing and difficult three-color printing.

The richness and diversity of the book world never cease to amaze me.