In this fall season, I thought it would be fitting to post a scene that takes place in the autumn from my latest novel, In a Grove of Maples. In this display set up on my buffet, you’ll notice that I have a lit candle next to the book. It’s a specially made candle, by From the Page candles, to match my novel!! How cool is that?
I have always wanted to write a Christmas Novella, and this year I am determined to. In fact, I hope to write it over the next few weeks. I won’t publish it until next November, though. But I am excited about it and okay with setting my current writing project aside.
A dry, brown oak leaf swirls in an eddy, little less than three feet wide, in front of the entrance to my home. It scrapes, crackling against the cement. Round and around it goes, dancing in rhythm to the wind chime hanging nearby.
How does cradling a hot cup of tea in my hands comfort me? The warmth reminds me of safety, of home.
With our current health crisis, we have been told to distance ourselves socially from others and stay at home in our nest. Home. It conjures up a feeling of safety, warmth, and love. It’s where my husband and I have built a comfortable nest.
Valentine’s Day approaches, and I thought I would do a Valentine’s special blog post. ‘Tis the season of love. Of flowers and chocolate, wine and kisses. Just what does this time of year mean?
The bright colors of this quilt I finished this week puts me in mind to look at the new year with a bright hope. The new year brings new things: seasons, experiences, opportunities, goals, etc… With the turning of the calendar, I think of New Year’s resolutions, which are mostly a concerted effort to improve my life or others.
This month I wanted to focus on being thankful instead of grumbling and complaining about my uphill author battles, so I challenged myself to post about something I’m grateful for on Facebook and Instagram each day. I wake up eager each morning to share my thankful posts. Counting your blessings really does change your attitude.
Have you ever seen a person spin plates? I have. It is certainly a feat. One that I don’t think I could achieve. Yet inwardly, I do just that. In this new season of being an independent author, I find myself wondering how to balance life with the various hats that I wear. I imagine the hats like plates spinning on a pole. I am afraid that one or more will crash, or I will.
A Fall Poem: Autumn to Me
Cool crisp perfect
Colored hat glorious
Misty morning marvelous
Dead leaf crunch
Corn, buffet brunch . . .