Otto--to the right, with the gorgeous coat-- is a little confused here by the frozen fountain. We don't get ice that often.My lily pads are toast. Frozen toast. Don't think they'll winter over, but who knows. The spout still burbles through a wee hole in the ice, enough chortling to entice a flock of cedar waxwings to swoop in for a drink.
Stock markety weather: 19 degrees last night, but supposed to be in the mid-60's this wkend.
In other news-- besides poring over seed catalogs, I've been reading--and rereading-- three craft books on writing to brush up for the Writing Your Novel seminar I'm teaching later this month. Among them: The Lie that Tells A Truth by John Dufresne-- his chapters on first drafts and flash fiction are especially insightful. I do recommend his book for sharpening the saw...so to speak.
Posts
