Archive for April, 2017

Yes, nearly every blog posted today concerns Earth Day, which, of course, urges me not to write about it.

Yet, I must. Sorry.

For those who do not know, I live in a swamp; one of my loves. This love surrounds a lake, which produces a huge crowd of Mayflies. (They arrived early.)  Key word here is Huge… and multitudes and gads and gazillions.

Today, Earth Day, the Ephemeroteras arrived for a family reunion; all 42 families! They are irritating, annoying, and bothersome. Yet, they do have two fine qualities. First they hurt no one; unless you’re running and one gets up your nose or you’re driving and did not clean the windshield or you did clean it with the wipers and made a Huge mess.

Secondly, they briefly enjoy their adulthood romp of annoyance just for ten to eighteen days, approximately. I like that word – approximately. It gets me out of reading all of Wikipedia.

Earth Day 2017 is officially forty-seven years old today. In 1970 I was a first year teacher of fourth graders on a military base and I fell in love with their enthusiasm for science,  math, and saving the earth. Their enthusiasm spilled into everything we did and onward into my career of thirty-nine years.

I love Earth Day!

Today, I’m writing in my swamp, book #6, Golden Leaf, the watching the Ephemerotera- Mayfly reunion, here at my fictional Lake Wheatley. Some stick to my window…on the outside. Thank you!


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Walking Partner

This morning I went for a walk in my swamp. I usually do. Most often I take Tomasmo Albinoni or some other Baroque guy. I have a softness for broken guys. Occasionally, I am joined by my husband. That’s cool; although he’s not a fan of talking to my ear buds. Today Kirsten came.

Kirsten Delamere, if you read my historical mysteries, is my fictional detective; imaginary friend. She pointed out two handsome cranes; one white and the other a Carolina Heather Blue, hunting for Sunday Brunch and trying to avoid Douglas.

Douglas? An alligator… not a huggable buddy. Huge.

Kirsten wanted to discuss her past novels, Gray Lace and Silver Cotton. She’s a tough critic. In our next mystery she wants more attention paid to women’s issues and civil rights. Walking close to the edge of a canal, I told her she is a bit ahead of her time. She told me Douglas looked hungry.

I have been scheduled to speak to a book club luncheon coming up in May and she wants center stage. How do I tell the audience I have an imaginary friend waiting for a place setting? In Golden Leaf she will travel to England for various reasons and she asked me today for more progress on the theft of a priceless artifact. Good Gravy, now I have to  rewrite several scenes.

Should I quit walking? No, she would bug me to keep writing even if I’m emptying the dishwasher; especially then. Actually, I’m quite fond of her. She has yet to broadcast my secrets.


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