Okay.  It’s May 3 and I huddle here in  wool sweater and big fuzzy socks.  I just want to say this has been

The. Worst. Spring. Ever.

There.  I feel much better (not).

It was rainy and cold LAST week, too, of course, but my husband I still got on a ferry and sailed across a bay and spent two wild, wet days on an  island in Lake Erie.  My new book is set on a fictionalized version of that sweet chunk of limestone, and I walked around with pen in hand taking intensive notes, something I never do.   Paul took the pictures.  Here’s a photo of the back shore:

The water chortles and chuckles beneath those rocks.

We also spent a lot of time down in an abandoned quarry which, during a rare sunny moment, looked like this:

This place is Fossil Paradise and in the distance, behind a screen of tall cat tails, is a summer swimming hole.  On a chilly spring day before the tourists come, though, what it chiefly is is Quiet.  I sat there gazing at all the layers of rock and felt like a small thought  nestled in Earth’s many-tiered, ancient and all-knowing mind.

One thought on “Mosaic

  1. Tricia

    I always hope that when the photos show up sideways in my draft, they will miraculously twirl upright when published. Sometimes they do! And sometimes…not!

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