Where have I been and what have I been doing? I’ve been to the States and Scotland and East Sussex since last here. And to Somerset and Stonehenge. I’ve run a lot, but maybe not enough. I’ve not written anything, but I’ve thought of and planned the writing of things. There are schedules now, and preliminary dates for my next book’s release. I’ve met a new editor and journeyed to Oxford to plan things with them. I’ve lost old friends and met new ones. I’ve watched the seasons slowly change and listened to the rain on my skylight whenever I could.
So all that.
The Red Sox season is killing me, which is just as well as life’s proper portions of heartache and heartbreak are fresh and raw and searing and if I seem down, it’s just the baseball, honest.
The sun’s out and all things are flowering - scents of the season drift along the riverside. There seem to be more honeybees about this year. It’s all good if you just let it be.
