Visitors

Today is the first time I’ve felt the chill of fall in the air. It was around fifteen in the cabin and outside it likely went below eleven. The nights are starting to cool off. I kept the windows closed all day and the cabin warmed up slightly, but still stayed cool. The snakes were out trying to soak up the last of the summer’s warmth, getting ready for hibernation, much like me.

I went for a walk to the top of the other hill today, just looking over the swamp which has dried considerably now, and whether there have been trespassers on my land over the hill. There were no tracks other than sign a bear as been around, and moose have been moving through as well. There were a few raspberries amongst the thorns so I snacked on those as I walked, and followed a game trail of some kind beyond the slope of the hill.

Strangely, I sometimes think someone is going to visit when I’m wandering around on my land, although I’ve had no visitors this summer other than Dennis coming by with Erin and Miriam in the spring, and that was mostly to deliver my inverter.

I have two zucchini ready to eat, although the next ones after those are small and might take quite a while. They are growing quickly though, so I should pick tomorrow.

I did some more clearing up today, moving lumber to the tin shed and some gear to the workshop. The new part looks even more cleaned out. I’ll try to get a good cleaning done before my Leen comes, if she does, and that way she won’t have to suffer through lingering dust. I need a windy sunny day for that.

Last night was reasonably productive for writing and the new novel, Not Quite Dark, is almost done. Whether I finish the draft tonight depends on whether I can evoke a safe town after the apocalypse. It’s hard to keep the story from veering into a maudlin wander if you are aiming for a happy ending. I did some editing today as well, so it was reasonably productive.

About Barry Pomeroy

I had an English teacher in high school many years ago who talked about writing as something that people do, rather than something that died with Shakespeare. I began writing soon after, maudlin poetry followed by short prose pieces, but finally, after years of academic training, I learned something about the magic of the manipulated word.
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