Rain

[jhetley]

The world outside is going all squishy -- dump rain on top of thawing permafrost and you get . . . Mud Season! And the bottom step at the back door rocks a couple of inches when you step on it -- the outer edge rests on thawed ground, while the inner edge lies in shadow and bears on still-frozen dirt. Signs of spring -- we takes them where we gets them.

Happy Pi day to those who celebrate mathematical relationships.

Thus far, the day's writing output consists of a draft agreement for architectural services. Probably a better return on my investment than the further adventures of Fat Wizard, but not nearly as much scope for the imagination.

And I need to format another three chapters to go out to the crit group, with the dread summary of What Has Gone Before. That comes perilously close to a synopsis, and I _hate_ doing a synopsis. As Pat Wrede once phosphored on RASFC, "If I could have written the story in four pages, I'd have USED four pages." Or something along those lines, anyway.

Comments

[origamilady.livejournal.com]

*snerk* Mud Season, I like that . . . and it is rather apropos these days. Especially with children about(Im a teacher), who seem to be able to find and attach to even the minutest amount of mud.

[jhetley.livejournal.com]

"Mud Season" isn't my invention. It's one of the four official seasons of Maine -- Autumn, Winter, Mud Season, and July. (Some nit-pickers specify The Fourth of July, but most of us allow the whole month. Others substitute "Blackfly Season" to round out the quartet, instead of July.)