Blessed Rain…

It’s raining, it’s raining! July has been dry and hot here at my home. The plants droop and I fill my water basin every day for the birds and dragon flies that are finding my flowers. It’s raining!

All my carefully laid plans – hiking and gardening, picking raspberries and visiting, are set aside. I have my excuse to stay inside, writing, playing with mead and staying in pajamas until noon.

But first, let me release this next chapter. I know it’s a slow start, but please indulge me a bit longer. These people have changed since we’ve last seen them, and I want what comes to be understood.

My thanks to Ms Buffy. I’ve worked your editing skills quite a bit lately, and I am grateful for your time.

My best to everyone. If you’re looking for me today, I’ll be inside, drinking coffee and writing about vampires.

Chapter 8 – Light Floats

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It’s Vineyard Season…

I moved to Connecticut many years ago, half a lifetime. It seemed a place of lost identity, and for me, that suited my wish for exile and hiding. I found work and eventually romance of a kind. I settled here, anxious to give my sons the kind of stable home I never knew, but always I felt this place was missing what I’d found in other places – an identify of its own.

Connecticut is a crisscross of highways, train tracks, and anemic cities, all aimed at giving people a way to go to other places. It sits almost equidistant between New York and Boston. It offers a straight shot to Vermont and, to a lesser extent, New Hampshire. People here traditionally talk of traveling to find their weekend. It’s been rare to hear people discuss this state as a place they purposely chose for enjoyment. Until now.

Climate change has shifted the temperatures here. Our season is now thirty days longer and the snows have moved to Spring. The storms, when they come, are violent but short-lived, and the vines flourish. There are over forty vineyards operating in Connecticut. They host tastings and music, and their venues are varied. You find traditional New England farmyards and patios set under trees that remind me of France and Tuscany.

For the first time I can recall, people talk of this state as a place worth being, and not just as a pass-through to where they wish to be.

I hope you enjoy the chapter today. Like myself, Sookie is finding those things and people that make her more at home in her surroundings.

Congratulations, Harlow Layne, on your original writing debut. Thank you, Ms Buffy, for your edits and comments. Thinking about you and wishing I could take you with me on my quest for a truly good Connecticut red wine.

All my best for your Sunday.

Chapter 7 – Into the Breach

What’s Lost….

I had a few readers ask, “Where’s Sookie?” In this chapter we catch up with our favorite couple. Of course, there’s vampire politics, and the return of someone from their past.

Best of Sundays, and for those stuck in the weather heat box (like me), stay cool!

Thanks Ms Buffy. As always, your patient word juggling smooths my more choppy moments. And thank you, Ms Harlow Lane, for your lovely art. So exciting, seeing your first book cover! Congratulations!

Chapter 6 – What’s Lost is Found

Just another manic Sunday…

As I may have mentioned, I am a brewer of mead. The simple definition is ‘honey wine,’ but it is so much more. Mead was the drink of the gods of Asgard and Greece. It’s variations are so well known, they have their own names. Melomel, Pyment, Braggot, Metheglin… each with its own unique signature.

I have a contractor here, installing a wet bar/work station in my downstairs room. Soon, my brewing will have its own space, just in time for me to set up my favorite spring-time flavor, blueberry and lavender. It takes a year. There’s the initial cooking and mixing, and then the first ferment. The yeast bubbles and pops. I knock down the fruits, tasting and adjusting through first one racking, and then another. Once it stabilizes, I wait, allowing the yeast to slow and then to exhaust itself, and then, I rack again. It’s six, sometimes seven months to bottling and then, on a fine Spring evening, I’ll be opening that bottle to compliment lamb or chicken.

All my long-ass way of saying I’m pushing this chapter to you, and running off to other things today. My best to you at this, the turning of the year when Summer’s triumph turns, oh so slow, back toward the waning of the year.

Thank you, Ms Buffy, for your suggestions and crafting. I so appreciate it!

Chapter 5 – Slipping Priorities

Chapter 4 and Falling

The next chapter of Full Circle is available, and I thank you for your reading and comments.

I’ve had an inquiry asking what the young couple looks like. These are the pictures I have in my mind.

For Rick, I see a man still so young, a mix of his parents. And Brigid?  

She is that sun-kissed girl, always just beyond your finger-tips, the lovely promise that walks just ahead of you on city streets, reminding you that somewhere nature still calls, dressed in greens and leafy places.

Thank you to my wonderful Ms Buffy. I send you all my best, wishing for a life that is both happy and less chaotic.

Yes, Gyllene, we move another step closer to the promise of your banner in this small story of family and vampires.

Chapter 4 – Falling

Welcome from Summer

Spring has, once again, peeked, flirted and run. In the two weeks I was out of country, the trees went from early Spring to full Summer. I missed the long weeks of daffodils and purple hyacinths. Instead, we had two days of profusion, followed by 80 degrees and a quick die-off. The scientist in me ticks this off with increasing alarm, but the optimist sighs, hoping for a better year next year and eyes the catalogs, tagging pages with new daffodils to add to my garden.

But enough of that.

This chapter is about the Summer of a young man’s life, and the first stirrings of love. Unlike his Mother, Rick knew a version of normal. He grew up believing one thing about his family and himself. As he matured, all that he believed has been set on its ear. It’s not his Mother’s turning that has knocked him off balance. It’s the realization that all those things he took for granted have changed around him.

My thanks to Ms Buffy, who edited with such skill. My thoughts are with you. My best to Harlow Layne. That smile draws me forward.

My thanks to you who have decided to follow this tale. I hope it satisfies.

Chapter 3 – Seeds

Returning to older paths…

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When you walk long distances, your body begins to anticipate the march. You bless each morning you stand up, finding the aches in your hips and knees have miraculously resolved. You rejoice in taking that first step and not feeling yesterday’s hot spot or blister. You eat breakfast, check the weather, and start on your way, another day of trail and new discovery.

When you return to your prior life, that life that now feels less real than the one on the trail, your body struggles to forget.

That’s been my week. My hamstrings whine and my back winces. My feet cramp and my shoulders pull. “Where is the road?” my rebellious muscles sing to me every morning as I shuffle toward the stairs. They, like me, are disappointed that today’s road is nothing more grand than gardening and groceries, not vistas and sloping hills.

Thank you for returning to Full Circle. My thanks to Ms Buffy for her skilled massaging, and to Gyllene/Harlow Layne for the banner that pushes me forward.

Chapter 2 – Finding Ground