The Wednesday after Thanksgiving

Hooray, the turkey's gone. Turkey right out of the oven, in sandwiches both cold and hot, and turkey pot pie. If I never seen another hunk of that meat for a year, it will be alright. Anyway, got up this sunny Florida morning to a temperature of 34 degrees. Want to move to Hawaii with me? And we are supposed to go camping tomorrow.

With all the weekend chaos, wonderful tho' it was, I accomplished little. No, actually, I did write one whole page of my second Witness Tree book. At this rate, I should be done long after the Tree itself is nothing but a pile of slivers. Still doing some research and should be able to hit it hard next week.

Short entry....motor home has to be loaded. Back soon, B

To Love to Write is to Love to Read

Hi everyone. This is my first attempt at blogging. Where did that word come from in the first place? BLOG. Look at it. Say it. Now tell me you don't think it is an ugly word.

Words have tastes and/or personifications, in my opinion. Take for example, the word serenity. Now that is a sweet word that resembles an angel. Or the word paper. It reminds me of a stiff butler, looking down his nose as he asks to take your coat. How about the word maybe? It is like custard ... kind of wiggly and bland in taste. Or corrupt? It tastes like rotten eggs to me. See what I mean? I would love to hear your thoughts on word tastes and personalization. Enough of that for now.

I just completed the first of what I hope will be a four book series entitled The Witness Tree. Folks have told me for years that I am strange and now I have proven it. The tree in question is the narrator of an era in his life. The first is The Legend of Summer Swan. Summer Swan is an woman of an un-named Plains Indian tribe before the coming of white men. She is what my proofer called a 'kick-ass' female who shares her love, both emotionally and physically, with the two men she desires and who love her. She is selfish and giving, weak and strong, cruel and loving ... a complete set of contrasts rolled into one. A menage of very graphic detail that will require a few cold showers, guaranteed.