Eleanor Tatum

Everywhere in central North Carolina has snow today. Not me. My one-quarter Yankee granddaughter and her one-half Yankee mother are making snow angels. Not me. Another daughter texted her Charlotte pics of snow. None here. This Full Yankee is acting like a spoiled child that I truly am. I want snow! It was fake news, that prediction.

However, a few days ago in my swamp, it was 70 and raining, lovely gray “soothingness”.  It was real rain, not digital. In fact, it came with fog. The electricity decided not to work too, so sounds were sharp. The real rain encouraged writing and my procrastinated-proofreading commenced. It comforted and pulled in my developing characters to plot their lives in my mind then they jumped to the paper.

My swamp critters (alligators, turtles, cranes, and ducks) must have hated the seven day below freezing week. Good Grief. My swamp froze! My writing froze. My characters must have been miserable. I haven’t allowed them to progress through their plots. That is totally unfair. There’s too much unfairness in our world. It stops here.

Unfreeze the characters!

Enough!