out in

Every year it happens.

Just when everybody else revs up in excitement over NaNoWriMo, NaBloPoMo, and all the other greatest things to do in and around cyberland, I start to chill out.

Or maybe it’s cozy up. Today our fire burned clear, strong, blithely, and glowingly throughout the hours, while chili simmered in the slow cooker. I’ve been reading through old journals, something I typically get a yen for this season. And I’ve got a novel going, but not one I or anyone penned recently. It’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Perfect for the yellowing light reflected by maple leaves nearly drifted off the front tree. Fun for Friday the thirteenth tomorrow. A tale about evil, but from the points of view of “innocents,” those wanting to do good. At least that’s how the story looks so far.

I wish each of you contentment in your pursuits this month. I think I’ll be around, but then again, maybe not. I’ll keep crafting an essay, reading journals and books, and seeing what blows by with the leaves, what skitters past in the shadows.

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