It Blowed Away
Saturday, October 21st, 2006 09:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rolanniYesterday it ...rained. A lot. It was raining when I left for my three o'clock interview in deepest Weeks Mills and I ran into fog on the Back Pond Road. Yes, fog in the pouring rain. Maine weather is endlessly fascinating.
The interviewees were interesting folks and we had a lovely chat while outside the heavens opened and it really rained.
Back home and slightly damp, I did the writing the story part to the tune of several thunderstorms, then the rain cleared off and the winds began.
It blew, and it blew, and it blew. All night, the wind blew, and it's still blowing in spurts this morning. The big bird feeder was a casualty of the winds; blown down from its (admittedly precarious) position to shatter on the soggy ground. Guess we oughta mooch on out and get a new one today sometime. Don't want the chickadees or the nuthatches to starve. Not to mention the finches or the demented woodpecker.
Today's work looks to be re-read, revise and email the Weeks Mills story to mine editor so he can have it first thing he opens his mail on Monday and then go best two of three with "Prodigal Son."
In the meantime, I think I've figured out the twist in "The Prestige," which is what comes of watching trailers and knowing that Tesla is in the mix. Now, I'll have to see it to find out if I'm right.
The interviewees were interesting folks and we had a lovely chat while outside the heavens opened and it really rained.
Back home and slightly damp, I did the writing the story part to the tune of several thunderstorms, then the rain cleared off and the winds began.
It blew, and it blew, and it blew. All night, the wind blew, and it's still blowing in spurts this morning. The big bird feeder was a casualty of the winds; blown down from its (admittedly precarious) position to shatter on the soggy ground. Guess we oughta mooch on out and get a new one today sometime. Don't want the chickadees or the nuthatches to starve. Not to mention the finches or the demented woodpecker.
Today's work looks to be re-read, revise and email the Weeks Mills story to mine editor so he can have it first thing he opens his mail on Monday and then go best two of three with "Prodigal Son."
In the meantime, I think I've figured out the twist in "The Prestige," which is what comes of watching trailers and knowing that Tesla is in the mix. Now, I'll have to see it to find out if I'm right.
