Eat Before the Snow's Too Deep

On Swans and Writing and Idea Flurries

Friends,

Snow’s forecast—then wind and bitter cold.

The swans wintering here know.

Last night, instead of their usual dusk flight to watery roosts . . .

Trumpeters lingered in nearby feeding fields, mining soil and and grass, tugging cornstalks left for their gleaning.

While they could.

I heard them calling long after dark.

In coming days, when ice locks ponds and earth around here, they’ll fly to sheltered fields farther south.

For the storm’s duration.

"And God said . . . let birds fly above the earth across the vault of the sky."

—Genesis 1:20

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The metaphor’s a loose one, but I’ll be doing the same for a while—only I’m flying into a flurry of ideas for this new novel.

Scenes are swirling thick, and since I want to catch them before they pile and drift, I won’t be writing you as often.

Watch for my Saturday Letters monthly, not weekly . . . for now.

°°°°°

 📙 📙 📙 Meanwhile, from my BOOKERY, another WINNER!

Congratulations, TERRI SWEETLAND! You’ve won a copy of The Widow’s Voice. Please reply with your mailing address, and I’ll send the book right off to you.

My NEW GIVEAWAY, which subscribers can enter anytime in the month of February, is for a HARDCOVER copy of my award-winning novel LEANING ON AIR!

Reply with the book’s title in your subject line, and I’ll enter you in the drawing. I’ll announce the winner on March 1.

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BTW. . . . Watch the ice out there. I slipped while getting rosemary for some sourdough bread I was baking and face-planted in my herbs. (Does that make me a seasoned baker?)

Love,

Cheryl

Watching Nature, Seeing Life