I don’t know what it’s like where you are, but here in New Jersey, this May and last May have been unseasonably cold and rainy. My own blog archives tell me so. And so much for Global Warming.
When I wrote The Throne, I was able to start writing it in April and finish in late October. Last year, I couldn’t start The Wind from Heaven until May 24, and I finished in early November on the last day–really, the very last–I possibly could have finished, before the bad weather set in until the next spring. Although actually it’s still here.
I’ve been waiting for a sign to start writing the next book, but all I’ve got so far is an Ornitholestes sneaking around the underbrush in Lintum Forest. Is that what the Lord wants me to use as a starting-point? Can it work?
Well, I’m running short of time, so I might as well take the first step and see if it leads to a second. Say a little prayer for me.
There was some snow in the forecast earlier this week–we got about half an inch–and when we went to the supermarket that morning, almost all the milk had already been bought out. ‘Cause when it snows, you’ll need several gallons of milk, at least a dozen packages of toilet paper, and a boxful of batteries.
This is New Jersey. We don’t have snowstorms that shut you in for a week. Nor do we have tornadoes, wildfires, or volcanoes (just the very occasional minor earthquake: which, I admit, is startling). So why does everybody panic whenever there’s snow in the weather forecast? Half the time, at least, it turns out there isn’t any at all.
The picture is, I admit, overly dramatic. The big heavy branch that the storm tore off last night missed Patty’s car, and a neighbor’s, literally by inches. I had to move it today; it was heavy enough to have done some serious damage.
These last several days have been murder–“the heat would make yer bloomin’ eyebrows crawl,” as Rudyard Kipling said. And when it isn’t as hot as the welding section on the old Ford assembly line, it’s been raining torrentially with scads of thunder and lightning.
Something, I don’t know what, happened on Route 1 during last night’s storm and spilled into our town, which was already halfway flooded. I never saw such traffic in my life–not that it was moving or anything. What was I doing, out in this madhouse? Don’t ask! I made it to the supermarket and their lights were knocked out. Somehow I made it home.
Now I know, because you’ve said so, that some of you get a bit blue when bad weather keeps up for any length of time. Who can blame you? Not me!
Sheesh, hot weather and thunderstorms in July–who would’ve thought it?