The insects sometimes seem as loud as ever, but the ivy on the firs and pines is crimson now; the nights are always cool.
I’m reading Harry Potter, Sherlock Holmes and Narnia, among other things. Reaching the last pages of The Face of God and My Bright Abyss with a bit of regret at the finishing of two books good in ways I did not (could not) anticipate. I expected them to be good, but vaguely, and they have both the quality of exceeding that expectation and surprising in the way they do.
And I’ve bought more books–there is no dearth: unlike Colombia, where one would sometimes feel the reserve was thin. (We do not regret leaving Colombia or much miss it yet. I see the red Target, the wasteland parking lots and strip malls and feel no regret. I see distant airplanes with no great longing.) We found one of the finest bookstores I’ve seen ever: Acorn Books–for many reasons. If you’re in Columbus and you’re literate, you should visit it.
Writing fantasy has taken over all my writing, mostly. I have a congenial schedule and sufficient flashes of imagination to keep that going steadily.