And just like that, what, months’ worth of work must be jettisoned?
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I’ve dropped my line into the deep water of what I hope will be my next book.
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Nothing damages a book in its infancy more than trying to describe it.
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The season of leaves falling.
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As one island friend once solemnly declared, “Get a house in Maine and they will come.”
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Back in early May, it seems like so much time. Summer then is capacious.
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Did someone declare last Saturday Official Yard Sale Day?
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And when it’s not raining, fog – this morning’s thick soup even obscuring nearby Heart Island.
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I confess: I nap. I love to nap.
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