Eleanor Tatum

When I drafted this post it was Pie Day. 3.14…that is cool, but I didn’t get too it. No, I did not bake nor eat a pie. If I had I would need to walk far more often. Then Spring Sprang, but it was a cold day, yet lovely in my swamp. No, I did not walk that day either.  My Grandfather Cash once told me that he wrote this poem:

Spring has Sprung. The grass has Riz. I wonder where the flowers is.

He did not, I later discovered.

Then it was Southern Farm Day. We invited my family and we explored the culture. Interesting fun indeed. The best part were homemade push toys we bought for The Grand Daughters. There are several more comments, but those might be filed under Cultural Conditioning of this city girl.

I did not turn left that day, either.

Today, after turning left and returning,  I decided  to write about another wonderful book I just finished reading. I wish I could report that I wrote it. Maybe when I grow up as a writer.

Deanna Raybourn, one of my favorites, recently published A Dangerous Collaboration. I adore mysteries, especially in an historical setting, but I am also a romantic down to my tibia. (a bit worried about my toes. I squirm during a pedicure). Therefore, I am pleased to announce that the tension between Deanna’s main characters, Veronica and Stoker, was riveting and kept the who-done-it questions popping up with at least every other page.

And, I actually learned a fair amount about plants and butterflies without having to read boring non-fiction.

Well Done, yet again, Deanna. Keep it up!

BTW: I also appreciate your numerous Turn-Left Tweets, Deanna Raybourn.

Enough